The Remnan Exchange
by Chris7221
Summary: We are not alone in the universe. Neither Earth nor Remnant expected to meet the other, and especially not this way. We must now learn to coexist in a new uncertain era or suffer the consequences. Formerly Emergence Second Interquel, the latest entry in the Emergence series. A sort of anthology divided into distinct arcs. Final arc: Unending.
1. Prologue

August 3, 1492.

Three rickety wooden ships leave Palos de la Frontera, Spain. Led by Christopher Columbus, a name that would later become legend, the expedition heads west in the search of a shorter route to Asia. Following the tradewinds, they make their way across the Atlantic and eventually reach land. But instead of landing in Japan as Columbus had expected, they find the New World.

The next two centuries saw an unprecedented exchange of animals, plants, culture, technology, and ideas between the Old World and the New World. With the explosion of trade came an explosion of conflict, disease, slavery and destruction. This event was eventually given a name- the Colombian Exchange.

Scholars debate whether it was a net positive or a net negative to this day, but none debate its significance. The Colombian Exchange literally changed the world. Empires rose and fell. Nations were born, died, and were born again. Entire populations moved from one continent to another. It was a revolution that would over the course of centuries birth a world more connected than ever before.

Five centuries later, the world sits on the cusp of a new revolution.

The **Remnan** Exchange

* * *

Formerly Emergence Second Interquel, The Remnan Exchange is here ahead of schedule!

If you're haven't read the Emergence series before, I highly suggest you go back and do so now. You're probably hopelessly confused already, but if you're familiar with the series things will make a lot more sense. At the very least, read Convergence, which is the previous entry and sets up a lot of the background.

I think the prologue does a good job of explaining what this story will be about in theme if not in specifics. It's about the first years of contact between Remnant and Earth and the effects of that contact on both worlds as they struggle to coexist. Initially, the focus will be on canon characters and existing storylines, but that may change as the story evolves.

The format will be a bit different than previous works in the series. This story is sort of an anthology. It will be divided into multi-chapter arcs that follow certain persons and events. These will typically come out in linear order but I may mix things up a bit. The first arc is called Homecoming, and focuses mostly on RWBY and their families.

I have a lot of exciting stuff planned for this story and I hope you enjoy it!


	2. Homecoming I

**Homecoming I**

"It's a beautiful day," Rose mused, walking down one of Beacon's many paved trails with her arm linked around Taiyang's. "You know, I'll give Beacon that. I forgot how nice this place really was. Leafy trees, singing birds, and last I heard Earth was getting our glow for once."

"That's going to take some serious getting used to." Tai sighed. "I still have trouble believing you're really back."

"I still have trouble believing it. This is all going to take some getting used to." She laughed.

"What was it like?"

"Earth?"

Taiyang nodded.

Rose had to think about that for a moment. "I don't know how to answer that. It was all I really knew, so I didn't find it strange if that's what you're asking. Occasionally it felt wrong, but I just kind of got used to it." She paused. "I'm sure I'll get used to Remnant, too. It could just take a while."

Taiyang sighed. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Relax, Tai, I'm fine. I'll be fine." She changed the topic. "How did your meeting with the Headmaster go?"

"Mostly boring too. Some super secret stuff, but mostly just a lot of housekeeping." He hesitated before adding, "Your name did come up, though."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? What did Oz say about me?"

"He thinks it would be a shame to lose you," Taiyang told her. "If you can regain half your potential, you'd be an asset to society. His words, not mine. You know, I still think you should stay home, for all the good that does."

"Well, I might."

"I know, it's just-" Taiyang stopped, realizing what his wife had said. "What?"

"I don't know if I'm going back to being a huntress," Rose admitted. "I was serious when I said it's too early to know yet, but I've been doing some thinking. There are other places where an ex-huntress can go. We're always in demand. I could join the military, the police force, or just say fuck it and sell my services to anyone."

"You? A mercenary?"

"Probably not." She shrugged and offered a small smile. "Like I said, I don't know. I just want to consider my options instead of jumping in blindly. There's more to this world than hunting."

"That's fair, I guess." He nodded. "You know, as they say, that's tomorrow. What are you going to do today?"

Rose answered, "I think I'm gonna head down the the Beacon workshop. I have no idea how the tools work here anymore, but I want to try to at least get this thing working." She patted the pistol strapped to her hip.

Tai laughed. "Of course, I should have known."

She raised an eyebrow. "Known?"

"You were always a weapons nut. Ruby got it from somewhere, you know," he told her. Motioning toward the central tower, he added, "I've got to talk to the Headmaster. I think I'm late already, actually." He gave his wife a brief peck on the cheek before running off.

Rose smiled, more to herself than anyone else. "Romantic."

* * *

"So... back to class..." Weiss sighed as she followed the rest of her team down Beacon's stately corridors. If she were to be honest with herself, the upcoming class wasn't really bothering her. Sure, it would be boring, but there were ways of dealing with that. She had... other things on her mind.

"Yeah, Weiss, it's gonna be amazing!" Ruby exclaimed, nearly hitting a passing student with her arm.

"Do you really believe that?"

She sighed. "No. Not really. But we should at least try to be excited! Class might be boring, but we're on the road to becoming huntresses again!"

"Well, I guess I can't disagree with that," Weiss replied positively.

"What class is this, anyway?" Yang asked as they entered the classroom. They were early, and it was mostly empty. A vaguely familiar Faunus girl waved from the back of the room as they entered.

"History II with Professor Oobleck," Ruby answered. She glanced at her scroll before putting it away again.

"I thought we already did that one?"

"Never finished the course," Weiss reminded her as they headed toward their usual seats in the familiar classroom.

"Hey, look who wandered in," a familiar- and unwelcome- voice called.

"There's one thing I didn't miss," Yang remarked coldly.

"So, you think you can just show up after a year and pick up where you left off? Why couldn't you just stay on Earth with all the degenerate soulless idiots?" Cardin Winchester insulted. He folded his arms and glared at them before focusing on Blake in particular. "I didn't realize you were one of those freaks, Belladonna. I guess the cat's out of the bag now."

"Very funny," Yang muttered under her breath.

"Excuse me?" Weiss snapped, taking a step toward the bully and his team.

"Weiss, no," Blake hissed.

"Since when did the Schnees care about Faunus?" Cardin asked sarcastically.

"An insult to her is an insult to me," Weiss replied, voice icy. "It is a matter of honour. So long as Blake is my teammate, an attack on her is an attack on myself and on the Schnee family. Are we clear, Winchester?"

"Yeah. Whatever." Cardin waved dismissively before walking away and taking a seat on the other side of the room.

"What was that?" Blake asked, sitting down with her team.

"I don't think the peaceful approach is going to work on morons, Blake," Weiss admitted with a laugh. "The total bullshit approach, on the other hand..."

"You don't really have a code of family honour?"

She shook her head. "Believe it or not, the Schnee family is nouveau-riche. We only became the big Dust company after the War. I'm only three generations removed from the working class."

"Huh. I didn't know that."

"You wouldn't. It's really not something we-"

"Welcome, welcome all. Time is short so we shall begin immediately," the green-haired Doctor Oobleck announced upon entering the room. "Today's lesson was to be on the attempted exile of the Faunus to Menagerie-"

"Genocide," Blake muttered, significantly louder than she thought she did.

"Do not assume that because you have been missing for a year you will be afforded special accommodations," Oobleck snapped, glaring at her. "Do you have something to add, Miss Belladonna?"

Damn it. Blake knew she would turn heads for a few reasons, but she hadn't expected to make a scene on the first day back. She could apologize and drop it, or she could stand and say what was on her mind. She glanced at Weiss, who nodded.

Might as well start in the classroom.

"Yes, I do." Blake stood. "Professor, I believe we have been using the wrong word. Exile implies mere movement, perhaps not even permanent movement. It does not imply the destruction that was intended, and by extension undersells how inexcusable the actions taken by a certain few really were."

"And you have another, more appropriate word for us?" Oobleck asked skeptically. He already knew the answer, of course.

"Genocide," the Faunus girl repeated. "I've never heard it here, so I think it's a Terran word. It means acts committed with the intent to destroy an ethnic, national, racial, or religious group. Menagerie is scarce in resources and infested with Grimm. The Faunus would not have survived very long and they knew it. It was not an attempted exile but an attempted genocide."

"Genocide," Oobleck echoed. He snapped his fingers. "Perhaps you are correct. The very language describing an event can affect its perception. But I fear the word means little to us as it means to you. Still, I shall note that down. It certainly says something about our new friends that they use these words... but we will get to that later. Genocide. A terrible word for a terrible crime."

"Thank you, Doctor." Blake sat down again amongst harsh glares from some of the students in the room and curious glances from some of the others.

The professor continued his lesson as if nothing had happened. "Anyway, instead of our usual content we will be looking at what we know of Earth from the legends and the events of the past week. This is an exciting new frontier! We have in this room those who have lived among the Earthers and we shall not waste this rare opportunity!"

"Why bother?" Cardin snorted. "They're just a bunch of savages. They can kill each other to death for all I care."

"Mister Winchester!" Doctor Oobleck glared at his student. "Like it or not, this is the reality we now live in. We must learn about each other because we are forced to coexist. If we cannot coexist peacefully, it will only end in disaster for both worlds. It is not I, but you who will be the vanguards of a new generation, the leaders of this new two-world system! And it is you and your children who will live in this reality. You must ask yourself which future you really want."

* * *

"Wow, I forgot all about the Beacon cafeteria," Ruby remarked, setting her tray down at an empty table. "There's so much food!"

"So many cookies, maybe," Weiss chided. She reached over and stole one from her partner's plate. She looked over at Blake's plate. "Is that a pile of raw tuna?"

"Yeah," Blake replied.

"Is that because-" Weiss began asking.

Blake cut her off. "No, it's has nothing to do with being a Faunus. There's a story to it, actually. Some day maybe I'll share it."

"You know, we could have one hell of a food fight in here," Yang interrupted, tossing an orange up and down. Seeing her team's stares, she added, "What? Just saying."

"Hey, can we sit here?" Jaune Arc interrupted. His own team was gathered behind him, their trays stacked high with their favourite foods.

"Sure, Jaune," Ruby invited. She moved over to make room for Pyrrha. "How were your morning classes?"

"Boring. Really boring. I forgot how boring Professor Port was," Jaune said.

"Professor Goodwitch's class was... interesting," Pyrrha added.

"You weren't here for breakfast," Nora mentioned. "You missed pancakes! How could you miss pancakes!"

"You guys only missed a few months," Yang told the other team. "We missed a whole term. Our schedules are totally packed with the most boring courses imaginable."

"It's so weird being back," Ruby broached. "I mean, it feels like home again, but there's so much"

"I haven't played anything other than a shitty fighting game in a whole week," Weiss grumbled. There was a loud crack-hiss as she opened her can of Schnee cola. "I asked for my laptop, but apparently they're still deciding if they're willing to hand over that kind of technology or not. It's not like we don't have that kind of tech here _anyway_."

"She's going through withdrawl," Blake explained.

"It'd be nice to unwind a bit," Weiss elaborated.

Blake winked at her girlfriend. "There's more than one way to unwind."

Jaune broke the resulting awkward silence. "So, uh, what about the Vytal Festival?"

"Ooh! I'm really excited!" Ruby exclaimed. "We're going to see so many hunters from around the world with so many neat weapons!"

"Have you thought about entering?" Pyrrha asked.

"I don't know," Ruby replied honestly, deflating a bit. "I mean, we're really out of practice, and we don't have a lot of time before the festival starts, so... What about you, Pyrrha?"

"We're considering it," she answered, shooting her partner a meaningful glance.

"It's going to be an amazing festival, no matter what!" Nora exclaimed, speaking very quickly. "I mean, it's the first one they've ever seen on Earth, and with them over there and us over here and that all over the news it's going to bring more and more people watching it although a lot of bad guys are probably going to want to stop it. It'll be interesting for sure!"

"Do you have any idea what she just said?" Weiss asked Ren.

"Yes." He nodded. "It was very profound."

"Bullshit."

Ren offered only a thin smile and a shrug.

* * *

The red-haired woman stood alone at the firing range. At the late hour, she was the only one in Beacon's training area. On a table beside her were several boxes of recently made ammo, as well as a few cartridges loaded into polymer magazines. In her hands was a large black rifle with a vertical foregrip and reflex sight.

Steadying her breathing, the woman slowly squeezed the trigger. It broke clearly exactly where she expected it to, slamming the firing pin onto the primer and sending a Dust-filled bullet downrange. Most of the gas behind the bullet blew out the end as muzzle flash, but some was tapped upwards to slam a gas piston back into the bolt carrier to chamber a new round. The bolt made it halfway out of the chamber, the next round stovepiped in between.

Rose sighed before ejecting the magazine from her HK417 and clearing the chamber. She picked up one of her handloaded rounds and used it to adjust the gas regulator a quarter turn. The gun was a parting gift from the government, and almost half of her current arsenal. According to a rather excitable professor she'd talked to, she could build a new one at Beacon and might have even been expected to, but she figured she'd try to get the German-made rifle working first.

"Here goes nothing."

She slammed the magazine back in and racked the charging handle. Habitually making sure the range was clear, she shouldered the weapon again and flicked the fire selector from safe to semi. She fingered the trigger and carefully pulled.

The rifle spouted a tongue of flame, a sharp crack echoed through the room, and a hole appeared in the target. Rose checked the chamber. It looked good, so she pulled the trigger again. Another hole appeared in the plastic target and the rifle cycled perfectly. She emptied the entire magazine, turning the target into flaming swiss cheese before declaring victory.

"Fuck yeah."

A familiar voice interrupted her. "I figured I would find you down here."

Rose put the rifle down. "Figured I'd try to get Dust ammo working while I still have access to everything here."

Headmaster Ozpin raised an eyebrow. "At this hour of night?"

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted. "Restless as hell."

"What makes you restless?"

"Everything." She laughed mirthlessly. "I didn't even know who Tai or my kids were until a few weeks ago, and now I see them every day. I don't remember anything about this planet and there are already people telling I should take up being a huntress again. At least the press isn't poking around yet. Thank God for small miracles."

"Hmm." Ozpin paused, expression indecipherable as always. "Well, while you are down here, would you like to try a full combat simulation?"

She considered it for a moment. "Sure, why the hell not?"

"Do you remember how these work?" Ozpin asked as he pulled out his scroll and brought up the simulator interface.

"No, but I read up on them yesterday," Rose answered. She picked up her rifle again and loaded another magazine of Dust rounds. "Dirt simple. Get from Point A to Point B, blow up the robots, your Aura goes into the red and you're dead."

"Simple in theory," the Headmaster reminded, leading toward the other side of the room. He almost selected a basic program meant for first-year students before thinking better of it and selecting a different one. A few obstacles popped up from the metal floor, and several bare metal robots vaguely resembling Grimm forms took positions in the area. "You may begin when ready."

Rose raised her weapon and opened fire on the nearest robot. She focused on the weapon in her hands and the Dust within, pushing her Aura into the bullets. She could feel the power course through her veins as her powered-up rounds tore through the mechanical beast. A power she hadn't felt in years.

It scared the hell out of her.

As soon as the first bullet was fired, the rest of the robots became active and started moving toward their target with metal blades raised. Rose held her ground, dropping to one knee and taking out the nearest two robots with triple taps to the head. She dropped the magazine, slammed in a new one, and thumbed the bolt catch.

A metal wall blocked her view, but she knew there were many more robot-Grimm behind it. Rose stood and bolted around the corner with weapon raised. She'd been expecting something around the corner, but not the mechanical Beowolf that knocked her down and nearly impaled her. Rolling out of the way, she flicked the fire selector to full auto and blew the machine to pieces with a seven round burst. The rest of the magazine went into another pair of Beowolves following their friend, reducing them to scrap.

She barely had time to reload before what was probably supposed to be a Boarbatusk nearly rolled into her. With superhuman reflexes, she jumped out of the way. A burst of freeze-Dust enhanced bullets took it out of commission.

It was far from over. A group of robotic Ursa standing at the opposite end of the training area turned and began their charge. She bolted to the side, firing as she ran and managing to take one down and damage another.

One magazine left, three monsters left. Rose wished she had brought grenades. She managed to blow the head off of one Ursa before the other two were upon her.

The woman shouldered her rifle and drew her only melee weapon, a civilian Ka-bar combat knife. She charged the near Ursa, sending both of them flying. As they crashed into the floor, she drove her knife into the partially exposed neck wiring and twisted. Sparks flew, the robot twitched and stopped moving. She tried to pull her knife out, only to find it had been welded in.

The other Ursa was only a few feet away. It leaped forward, slashing across her torso with its metal claws and tossing her across the metal floor. Her rifle flew in the other direction.

Rose had one more trick up her sleeve. She leaped to her feet and unholstered her last weapon, an M9 pistol still loaded with Terran ammunition. It wouldn't do a lot of good against the armoured robot and she knew it. She dashed forward and weaved under the machine's swipe, jumping onto its back. It thrashed about, trying to throw her off. With one hand, Rose held on to the edge of an armour plate for dear life. With the other, she fired repeatedly at point blank into a large glowy bit on its back.

The robot shuddered and crashed to the floor. A buzzer and bright green light signalled the end of the program. The obstacles retracted and several wheeled robots emerged and began sweeping up the debris. She holstered her pistol, picked up her rifle, and tore her knife- along with a piece of wiring- out of the Ursa before the sweepers could get to it.

"So, what's my grade, Professor?" Rose asked. "Did I get an A for Awesome or an F for Fuck Off?"

"Give it time," Ozpin told her instead of answering the question. As he left, he added, "Appearances notwithstanding, I believe you are still the same Summer Rose who left us ten years ago."

 _Wish I could too, Oz._

* * *

"You guys really don't have to be here," Weiss said to her teammates again. "It's six in the morning and class starts in two hours. This need not be more than a private matter."

Team RWBY stood halfway between Beacon's main tower and an airship landing pad cantilevered off the side of the cliff. They watched as a sleek silvery-white aircraft with four articulated stub wings and prominent SDC insignia slowed and began its descent toward the landing pad.

"You think we'd really let you-" Yang's reply was cut off by the shrill whine of the arriving airship growing louder as it came closer.

"I forgot how loud those things are," Weiss shouted, beginning the short trek toward the landing aircraft. "Relax, they're not _that_ bad. It'll go fine. Really."

"She sounds like she's trying to convince herself," Yang noted to her partner. She received a nod in reply.

By the time Weiss reached the airship, it had already touched down. With a quiet hiss, a door on the side of the airship opened and a ramp extended. The first passengers off were armed Schnee security, who formed a protective cordon. Weiss gave them a nod out of habit.

The next passenger was a teenaged girl with bright white hair cascading down the back of her cobalt-trimmed white dress. Weiss grinned widely. "Winter!"

The younger Schnee was expecting a nod, or maybe a smile. She was not expecting a full-speed hug-tackle from her sister. She hadn't received one in years, even before Weiss disappeared. She returned the hug automatically before realizing what she was doing. Winter whispered, "Weiss, you-"

Another familiar and far less welcome voice snapped, "Weiss."

 _Oh, shit._

* * *

Not much to say about this chapter specifically. I think you can already see what Homecoming will be about.

However, I should mention a change in review policy. I will no longer be replying to every review in the chapter notes. I will reply via PM and mention salient points only in the chapter notes. I'm hoping to reduce clutter, reduce redundancy, and provide more timely responses this way.


	3. Homecoming II

**Homecoming I** **I**

Weiss slowly released her sister, bracing herself for the inevitable battle with her father. She'd been here before. It never ended well. It had been so easy to forget, but the memories of tiresome and rarely victorious verbal fencing rushed back to her in an instant.

"We are in a very public place, Weiss," Siegfried said, an edge to his voice. "You have been very remiss in presenting the proper image to any observers."

"On the contrary, father," Weiss explained, cringing internally at her own words. "Most people would embrace their beloved sister if they had no contact in nearly a year. I am merely creating a relatable, compassionate image."

"Our image is not compassion or relatability, it is strength and decisiveness!" the elder Schnee snapped. "Walk with me."

The three Schnees, flanked by armed guards, headed down the path away from RBY. The grounds were mostly empty of students in the morning hour. The few that were around averted their eyes or even skittered away.

"I will admit, your return was unexpected," Siegfried admitted. "We had assumed the worst; it is a relief to see you return. Still, there is much to answer for."

"Such as?" Weiss asked, voice neutral.

"Your arrival was filmed. Your overall deportment has slipped, but that is not my concern." He paused. "It it your Faunus teammate that concerns me. You were acting unacceptably... friendly."

"Blake Belladonna is a valuable part of our team," Weiss answered. "I was merely expressing camaraderie."

"Blake Belladonna is a Faunus with probable ties to the White Fang," Siegfried told her. "She is dangerous. I would ask that she be removed, but I know that Ozpin would never-"

"Blake is on our side," Weiss snapped. "She told me her story. She's not with them anymore- hell, we've fought the White Fang together."

"Diction, Weiss." Siegfried snapped. "Terrorist ties or not, your team is beneath you. I will not deny their potential as fighters, but they are sloppy and foolish."

"Team RWBY is the best team I could have asked for," Weiss shot back. She could feel the anger welling insider her. "Refinement does not equal effectiveness. They're good people, good huntresses and good friends, despite what you may think."

"Ruby Rose comes from a strong hunter family, but suffers from an immaturity not excused by her age. Her mother I could at least respect for her strength. Yang Xiao Long is both as strong and as impersonable as the rest of her line going back generations."

"If you cannot see past that, then that is your failing and not mine," Weiss countered sharply.

"Perhaps you are not fit to lead the Company," her father suggested.

"Perhaps I am not interested," Weiss snapped, immediately regretting it.

"You disappoint me, Weiss. I had high hopes for you. There was so much potential in you, for the Schnee name and for the company," Siegfried lamented, staring ahead. He turned back to his daughter. "You are no longer the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company. Your sister, Winter, will be the one to succeed me."

"What?" the Schnee sisters exclaimed.

"It is done," their father confirmed. "That was the decision I made months ago when you disappeared. I was hoping you would prove it the incorrect one, but I had feared that you would not."

"Yes, father."

"I will be in Vale for several days," Siegfied said to Weiss. "We still have much to discuss. Your schedule will be sent to you."

With that, he turned and left, taking Winter with him.

* * *

"So, how'd it go with your family?" Blake asked, peering above her book as Weiss stomped into their dorm.

Weiss threw her jacket at a rack by the door and hopped onto her bed. "How do you think?"

"But you got to see your sister!" Ruby reminded her. "That was good, right."

"Yeah." Weiss smiled briefly before frowning. "We managed to exchange about two words before my father started dropping bombshells." She began imitating his voice. "You're too friendly with the faunus. Your team is embarassing. You're so disappointing, Weiss. You're too nice, Weiss. You're wasted potential, Weiss." She threw her pillow across the room. "Fuck!"

"You really have some bad blood there, don't you?" Yang remarked.

"You don't know the half of it," she replied, flopping back onto the bed. "I was starting to forget, you know? I was starting to think that it didn't matter anymore, that the company was somebody else's problem and the family was someone else's problem. I don't know what the hell I was doing on Earth but it was a lot better than being told what to do."

"It's easy to run, Weiss," Blake said, putting down her book. "It's harder to face your demons. Just... it'll be okay."

"I screwed up," Weiss admitted, taking a deep breath. "I kind of lost it. I told my father I wasn't interested in the company anymore. And I don't. I really don't care about it anymore."

"It's about time!" Yang congratulated.

"Yeah, you tell him!" Ruby agreed. "Weiss, if you don't want it you don't want it, and there's nothing he can do to make you take it."

"Thanks, but it's not me I'm worried about," the former heiress said. "You don't understand what my life was like before I came here. It was a strict, regimented existence that would put the army to shame. Winter had it easier, and now I'm worried that father's going to make it even worse for her than for me. And... I don't want her to turn into him."

Yang sat up on her bed. "Weiss, do you care about Winter?"

"Of course," Weiss answered immediately.

"Then you'll make sure that won't happen," Yang said firmly.

"I-"

"You will, Weiss," she impressed. "Trust me."

Weiss nodded. "Blake, you haven't said a lot."

"I think you would have been a great leader, despite what your father said." Blake said diplomatically. "I also understand why you wouldn't want anything to do with the company anymore. But you're not going to be able to ignore it forever. I think you're going to need to protect your sister, if nothing else."

"Oh, don't I know it," Weiss said. "I get to look forward to a week of meetings that almost, but doesn't quite interfere with classes. Speaking of which, Blake, could you grab my Scroll? I think it's still in my jacket."

"I'll get it!" Ruby exclaimed before jumping off her bed. She rushed over to the crooked coat stand before reaching down and tossing a silvery object toward her partner. "Actually, it fell on the floor."

"Oh." She opened the device. "Huh."

"Huh?"

"I got a message." Weiss answered. She pursed her lips. "Who's Glacias... oh. Of course."

"Who _is_ Glacias?" Blake asked.

She answered, "I'm assuming it's Winter, judging by the fact that it's from one of her favourite poems and the message is about arranging a meeting without, and I quote, _without father_."

"I guess she knows what's going on."

"Well, she knows _something_ is going on." Weiss tapped out a message before sending it. "Looks like I'm headed to Vale this afternoon for _tea_."

* * *

On a side street just off one of Vale's main thoroughfares, Myrrna's Cafe sat nestled among a strip of small shops and offices. With its pinstriped awning, deep orange trim, and swirly text, it might have been described as "retro" on Earth. The afternoon sun was pleasantly warm and illuminated the cafe with an inviting glow. Cars passed by and a few people milled about the decidedly middle-class neighbourhood.

Standing in front of the cafe was a girl in her late teens wearing blue jeans and a grey leather jacket. The only thing notable about the girl was the ornate sword sheathed at her waist, and perhaps her shoulder-length white hair. Several people passed by without paying her any heed- just the way the girl wanted it. Impatiently, she pulled out her scroll, checked it, and put it back before noticing someone coming around from the next street over.

"Winter!" Spotting a girl in distinctive white and cobalt rounding the corner, Weiss sprinted forward and embraced her sister again.

"Weiss, uh..."

The elder Schnee released her sister. "What?"

"You were never this... clingy before. Is this going to be a regular thing?" Winter said awkwardly. She stepped back and surveyed the cafe. "This is hardly a notable establishment, Weiss."

"I just wanted a donut." Weiss sighed. She pushed the door open and waved her sister inside. "Sorry, sis. Coming back to Remnant has been... stressful. It's not my intent to take it out on you. I just want to kick back and relax, you know?"

"No, not really. You were the one who was always on edge. You, relaxed?"

"A lot can change over a year away," she answered, picking a quiet seat toward the side of the cafe.

"Yeah," Winter agreed, sitting down across from her. "I know."

A middle-aged woman came around almost immediately. "What can I get you girls today?"

Weiss turned to the server. "Two cola and two Boston Creme, please."

"Two cola and two what?"

"Two... you know what, just get me a dozen assorted donuts in a box."

"I should let you know that father wanted me to schedule a meeting like this. Catch you off guard, see what you really are thinking," Winter said slowly after the server left. "I should also let you know that my answer will be the same no matter what we talk about and our only security is someone I trust."

"Are you sure?"

"Remember Frost?"

"I do." Weiss paused as the server returned with their pop and donuts. The cola came in a tall, chilled glass, and she took an experimental sip. "What does father want?"

"I don't think father is done with you, but obviously he's going to do that part himself," Winter stirred the straw in her drink. "He was hoping you would talk to me freely about your time on Earth."

Weiss managed a smile. "It's certainly... different. But not as different as you might think. People are still people. They have a lot of the same problems and a lot of the same solutions. I got used to it surprisingly quickly. It was amazing being away from a while." She selected a donut and took a bite.

"Sounds like you liked it better than here," Winter said ruefully.

"I experienced a freedom I've never experienced before. I faced a lot of issues I'd never even considered before but it was... liberating." She clasped her sister's hand. "It wasn't home. I did miss some things about Remnant."

"It's changed you." Winter smiled. She took a bite out of her donut. "I like the new you."

"I'm not going to argue with that."

"Father is still going to expect answers from me," Winter mentioned. "I think he was expecting more of a debrief on the capabilities of Earth and less your personal feelings about the world."

"Of course he would," Weiss grumbled. "There's enough to fill books. But I'll give you the short version I give everyone else. Most of the rumours are true. No Grimm, no Dust. Terrans can't use Aura at all and they don't have semblances either. They're about twenty years behind us technologically, except where they're leagues ahead. Very strong social, political, and economic structures and they're driven by mostly the same things that drive us. You can recite that word-for-word if you want. He'll love that answer."

"Okay." Winter smirked. "Now, for me. Any cute boys or girls?"

Weiss raised an eyebrow. "Why would I tell you?"

"Come on, big sis!" Winter whined.

"Obviously. Terrans look like us, although they have a little less variety," Weiss answered. "But me? No. Not exactly."

"You're not dating the redhead, are you?" Winter laughed. "She's cute."

"No, but she might be taken." Weiss sighed. "How have you been holding up, Winter?"

"I'm not going to lie. It wasn't easy. I didn't have any time to mourn before father had me doing all kinds of lessons and events to prepare me for my new role. I never really realized how hard it was to be, well, you. All this time I've looked up to you and wondered what it would be like and I didn't like the answer."

"I'm sorry, little sis."

"Don't be, big sis. It's not your fault. And I managed." She paused. "It's what we do, right? Schnees, I mean."

Weiss reached forward and clasped her sister's gloved hands. "Winter, I want you to promise me something."

"Okay."

"I want you to promise that you won't become like dad. That you won't become a cold, emotionless machine caring only for taking all you can from the world. Don't let the name and the company consume you. There's a whole world out there." She gulped. "And... don't let hate win. The Faunus are not our enemies."

"Um..."

"Promise me, Winter," Weiss implored intensely.

"I promise, Weiss."

Weiss released her sister's hands and stood. "I know that father's one step away from disowning me. But I'll be around. If you need anything, call me. I'll always be there for you if you need me."

"Okay." Winter stood, extended her hand, then rushed forward and hugged her sister. "I love you, Weiss."

"I love you too, little sis." Weiss released her sister. She checked her Scroll. "I guess I kept you a little later than you thought. Sorry about that."

"Yeah. Don't worry, I can make up lost time."

"Sure." Weiss muttered beneath her breath. She called to her sister, "I'll get the bill. See you around, Winter."

"Bye, Weiss." Winter gave one last wave before turning and heading for the exit.

Weiss waited for her sister to make it out the door before heading to the front counter to pay. The middle-aged woman greeted her with a smile as Weiss fumbled with her wallet. "How much?"

"Twenty-six," she answered before saying, "I know who you are. I guess the rumours are true, huh. Weiss Schnee is back. I'm not gonna lie, I was getting ready to throw you out. My dad's side were practically slaves, and I lost my brother in a Dust mine collapse. Safe to say there's no love lost between me and the company."

Weiss gulped and silently handed the woman a hundred-lien piece. She noticed for the first time the orange and black tail, almost the same colour as her apron, dangling beneath the woman.

"But... you're not your father or your grandfather. It's not your fault. I can tell you love your sister very much, and that's something I've never seen from a Schnee." The woman smiled a thin smile. "Don't worry, I won't tell. If she's running the company and you're behind her, well, I think everything will turn out just fine."

"Keep the change." Weiss turned away, grabbed her box of donuts, and headed for the door. She turned back briefly. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

* * *

Rose marched through the halls of Beacon, bag of clothes slung over one shoulder and rifle slung over the other. She was already running late. She was supposed to meet Taiyang by the docks in ten minutes, and wanted to visit her girls before that.

So, when she almost literally ran into Professor Ozpin, she found the encounter more irritating than anything.

"Ah, what a coincidence. I was hoping to catch you before you left," the Headmaster said. He stopped and took a sip of his coffee.

"I'm in a bit of a hurry, Headmaster," she replied, continuing her pace.

Ozpin matched it. "Of course. I merely wanted to ask your opinion on something."

"Shoot."

"Have you considered becoming a huntress again?" he asked simply.

"Yeah, I've considered it," Rose answered quickly. "The answer's still maybe. I'm still considering my options."

"I hope you realize that there we have many enemies out there," Ozpin reminded her. "Most are biding their time, but that will only last so long. The longer you stay away, the more strength they will gain and the closer they will get to their goals."

"The world's a dangerous place, I get it," Rose replied. "But you're surrounded by some of the best warriors on this planet or at least kids with the potential to be those warriors. I'm a washed up cop with head problems who just discovered she has superpowers. I know you want me, I don't know why."

The headmaster considered his answer. "You are a talented huntress. One of the best before your... disappearance. A stalwart defender of this world from the Grimm, from each other and from much else. I believe you can be that defender again."

"Ozpin, look. That was years ago. I don't even remember that. And, if I'm going to be perfectly honest, I've got my own shit to sort out." Rose laughed harshly. "If I wanted to save the world, I would have joined the Navy."

"Summer Rose was never this reluctant. She would have jumped right in, and in fact she did," Ozpin urged. He signed. "You've been through a lot and that has reshaped your view of the world. I understand that. But I believe you know deep down exactly what you should do."

"I said I'll think about it, Ozpin," Rose replied abruptly.

"I suppose that is all I can ask," he acknowledged, tipping his cup. "I wish you luck whatever your choice."

* * *

When Rose got to the RWBY dormitory, Taiyang was leaning up against the wall outside. He pet a small corgi sitting by his feet before telling his wife, "Blake and Weiss are out doing... something. They've already had their fill of me and Zwei."

"You're a lifesaver." She gave him an almost habitual peck on the cheek before pushing the door open.

"Mom!" Ruby bolted from her bed, leaving a trail of petals behind as she slammed into her mother and gave her a bone-crunching hug.

Yang was more reserved. She hopped off her bed. "Hi mom."

"So, how are you girls settling in?" Rose asked as her daughter slowly released her.

"I forgot what this place felt like," Yang answered. "It'll take some getting used to, but I'm doing okay."

"You still going to finish here and become huntresses?"

"Of course we are!" Ruby answered excitedly. "Are they going to let you be a huntress again?"

Rose frowned and bit her lip momentarily before answering, "We'll see, Ruby."

"You were amazing! I'm sure they're begging to take you back?"

Rose changed topics. "Look, I know we haven't had a lot of time together, but I've got to head to Patch. And, uh, well, now is the part where I mother you."

Yang rolled her eyes. "Oh, boy."

"Ruby... I'm not worried about you at all," Rose said before turning to her other daughter. "Yang, Ember Celica does not count as _protection_ and you can't drive Bumblebee drunk no matter how invincible you think you are. Don't do anything stupid."

"Moooom!" they both whined.

Rose laughed before turning serious. "I love you. I'll call when I can. See you soon. I promise."

"Bye, mom."

"Bye."

Rose gave her daughters one last smile before turning and heading back into the hallway and joining Taiyang again.

"So?" he asked.

"They wanted more time. Can't say I blame them," Rose answered. "On the other hand, I don't want to overmother them. Well, time to see Patch I guess."

"About that... I thought we could stop in Vale first," Tai told his wife as they headed out toward the staircase. "I figured since it's been so long since you've been to the city, and since you probably don't remember any of it, I'd show you a night on the town."

"Romantic." Rose joked. "That sounds fucking amazing. Let's do it."

* * *

I think now is a good time to remind you that Emergence::Winter is not Canon::Winter. She's younger than Weiss and has nothing to do with Ironwood's faction. She had her own arc back in Those You Leave Behind and was established long before Canon::Winter was revealed.

I actually had to think hard about what words I wanted to use with Rose and Yang, since they're not biologically mother and daughter. Is Rose mom, or just Summer? Is Yang daughter, or just Yang? In the end I decided Rose would consider Yang her daughter as if she were blood and Yang thinks of Summer as mom and Raven as useless baby factory.


	4. Homecoming III

**Homecoming I** **I** **I**

The Royal Vale Museum was an impressive building, standing out from the small shops surrounding it. It was wrought from rough grey stone, or at least appeared to be. Broad stone steps lead from a well-tended grassy area past imposing columns to the entrance. The building towered over its neighbours and filled out the whole block.

"I thought you might want to learn about Remnant again," Taiyang told his wife, motioning toward the entrance. "And I'm hoping maybe it'll jog your memory seeing a bunch of old stuff."

Rose bit back a snarky retort. "Well, you're not wrong."

"It's a really nice place. I used to take Ruby and Yang here when they were little," Tai answered. He quickly mentioned, "The feature right now is a gallery of traditional Mistralian art, which you're probably not interested in."

As they climbed up the rugged stone steps, Rose answered, "No, I'm not, not really."

"There's another exhibit about the history of Huntsmen and Huntresses. It's a bit out of date now but Ruby used to love it. And they have one of the best Great War exhibits in the world," Tai explained, walking beside his wife. "We can probably get through both before they close."

The museum opened into a large atrium that was equally impressive as the exterior. Golden patterns on the marble floor appeared to lead from the entrance to the ornate admission desks and out to the exhibits. An old airship hung from the huge domed ceiling. A teenaged couple and a few families lined up for tickets.

Rose headed for the lines before Tai stopped her. "Admission is free for huntsmen and huntresses." He waved to the clerk behind the admissions desk, who was too occupied to notice the gesture.

The hunting exhibit took up a whole quarter of the museum. It was arranged in a spiralling linear fashion, opening with a statue similar to that in front of Beacon and a blurb about the importance of hunters in society. It then went back to the beginning, starting with myths and legends about the origin of the Grimm and some reconstructions of the techniques and technology believed to be used by early hunters.

After that was a giant Dust crystal marking the beginning of the section on the discovery of Dust and its significance in the fight against the Grimm. It then segued into a discussion about the changing role of hunters in society as villages transformed into towns and cities and warlord states became Kingdoms. Rose found that section engrossing, but not as much as the next.

The next section focused solely on the weapons used by hunters over the ages. Many replica, reconstructed, and real weapons sat on display. Some were even in the open and could be touched. It followed an almost-familiar progression. First there were simple spears, but then Dust entered the equation and oddly shaped bows, polearms, and things Rose didn't recognize appeared. Metal appeared alongside Dust, first as simple blades that got more sophisticated until the first guns appeared and transformed the landscape entirely. The very latest weapons were intricate, highly mechanized machines that she marvelled at.

Following the weapons was a short section on the modern history of hunters, focusing on the formal establishment of the title after the war and the emergence of the academies as influential factions. A few panels took her aside to the story of Atlas before returning to a gallery of hunters in the modern era and now-outdated speculation about the future.

At the very end of the exhibit was a trio of hastily erected panels covered in photos with a single, simple caption: _What's next?_ When Rose looked closely, she realized that for the most part they were not photos of Remnant at all. Four were of the portals, with the skylines of Atlas, Vale, Vacuo, and Mistral visible. One she recognized as the distinct skyline of Washington DC. Two she did not recognize, but guessed by the text on the buildings as Vancouver and Tokyo. One photo showed an AC-130 raining fire down with the portal visible. Another photo, taken from the ground, showed an Atlesian airship flying in formation with F-22s. Mounted prominently in the centre of the left hand panel was a photo of the diplomats at the Beacon Accord, taken only a week earlier.

The whole exhibit was fascinating and informative, but hadn't brought any memories to the surface. Rose surmised that reading about it and looking at random relics wasn't close enough to reality for her.

"I'm sure it'll come back some time," she assured her husband. "Come on, let's check out that war thing."

The Great War exhibit was smaller than the hunting one, and laid out in a broad s-shape. It had far more authentic artifacts, including a small airship hanging from the ceiling. The exhibit was laid out largely in chronological order, starting with the underlying causes and background of the war. It was implied to be all but inevitable, but she had no idea if that was an accurate view history or not.

Most of the exhibit focused on the battles of the war and how they were fought. She could read between the lines for the hints of complex politics behind the war but they were de-emphasized by the museum in favour of a more martial focus. Weapons and equipment were on display with text, photos, dioramas and video that depicted pivotal battles of the war.

Rose was confused by what seemed to be scizophrenic technology. Swordsmen fought in battle lines alongside riflemen while heavily armed airships traded fire above. But Remnant wasn't Earth. A skilled fighter with a sword could dominate the battle- and it probably wasn't just a sword. The disorientation went both ways. When she'd tried to explain her point of view, Taiyang told her that she thought very much the same thing about World War II.

Only after going through the progression of the war did the exhibit start to explore its ramifications. The final section of the exhibit was all about how the war shaped the world to come. The Vytal Accords directly lead to the creation of the academies, drew out the current Kingdoms, and began the yearly Vytal Festival. The Cross Continental Transmit system, designed as a war-winning strategic asset, instead became a symbol of peace. On the other hand, the end of the war set the stage for many other conflicts, notably the one between Faunus and humans.

She was a bit surprised by how tragic the war was considered with so few civilian casualties and none of the mass devastation of the Second World War. Compare that to Dresden, Auschwitz, Hiroshima... she realized quickly that this kind of comparison was wrong on so many levels. A brutal war was a brutal war, period.

The exhibit had surprised her in many ways, but nothing beat the shock of seeing a perfectly preserved Grumman TBM Avenger sitting on a pedestal in the exit atrium.

Rose's jaw dropped. "Holy shit."

"What?"

"I recognize this plane. Looks like something from World War Two." Ignoring the "Do not touch" signs, she ran her hand along the rough metal fuselage. "American markings."

"It says that this is called an Avenger," Taiyang told her, skimming the placards placed around the aircraft. "It was found along with four other just like it by a huntsman on a mission shortly after the Great War. At first they thought it was from the war, but there are no records of this type. This particular one was taken to Vale and restored, but never flew because... nobody could start the engine? Hah, Atlas gave up and put in a new one. Apparently there are many theories as to its origin. Do you want me to read them?"

"No, it's- Son of a bitch!" Rose exclaimed, snapping her fingers with the realization. "Do you know what this is?"

"Uh... no. Nobody does."

"It's Flight 19!" she answered. "These disappeared from the Bermuda Triangle seventy years ago. I just saw a special on TV last week."

"You're saying they came from Earth?" Taiyang asked, catching on.

"Yes! I thought we'd find some connections, but I didn't think we'd literally run into one in a museum," Rose said. "But you know what? Someone else can deal with this. Let's go get dinner."

* * *

The simply named _Olive_ was their dinner destination. It was a small restaurant, seating perhaps fifty or sixty, wedged into a brick building on the corner of a busy avenue and a much calmer one-way street. A faded green-and-white awning hung over the entrance, with signs below advertising pizza, pasta, souvlaki and steaks. The interior was well-worn, but inviting, and the smell of herbs permeated the air.

"Mid-priced, Greco-Italian," Rose commented, smiling as she pushed around the last bits on her plate. "Pretty good, too."

"You mean Mistralian?" Taiyan asked.

"Is that what it's called here?" Rose asked, motioning to the souvlaki on her plate.

He shrugged. "Well, it's from Mistral, so yes."

"Hmm." Rose smirked. "So, I guess it's true, then?"

"What is?" Tai asked with genuine curiosity.

"Mistral. A lot of people think it's a kind of Mediterranean- you know what, I'll explain it when you're not drunk."

"I'm not drunk," Tai protested. He quickly changed topics. "Do you like this? I know it's stupid, but I can't help but think I should have taken you somewhere nicer-"

"I don't like huge plates with tiny amounts of pretentious bullshit on them, so you made the right call." She laughed. "Also, you _are_ drunk as fuck."

"I'm fine," Taiyang dismissed. "Besides, our airship doesn't show up until eleven."

"Dinner and a movie?" Rose guessed. Receiving a nod in response, she asked, "What movie?"

"It's called Sapphire Fury. It's a pretty standard action movie, but the cast is all huntsmen and huntresses that do their own stunts so I'm pretty excited about that," Tai rambled, slightly nervous. "But there's also this sappy love movie if you'd rather see that. I don't know what it's about, but I heard that women on Earth-"

She stopped him. "Tai, every Christmas I get wasted off my ass and watch through the entire Die Hard trilogy. The last thing I want is a chick flick, especially one that you don't want to watch. Let's go see Sapphire Fury."

* * *

Night had fallen by the time the couple made it to the airship terminal. The kind of security common on Earth didn't exist- they simply presented their tickets and walked out to the waiting airship with no fuss or fanfare. The airship in question was a sleek silver machine similar in design to a Bullhead. It was thinner but longer, about the size of a large business jet or a small commuter plane inside. Compared to Terran jets, the seats were larger than average and quite comfortable.

"What do you think?" Taiyang asked as they took their seats.

Rose knew what her husband really meant, but instead played dumb. "I think it was a pretty good movie. The bisexual love dodecahedron between Saph, Kraz, and Verd is something I've never seen outside porn, but it was well done."

Tai coughed before recovering. "The action scenes were good."

"Stunts were good. I'd be disappointed if they weren't," Rose agreed. "The fights were pretty damn cool, I'm not going to deny that. A lot of the other special effects were really bad, though."

"What, you mean the airship battle? You didn't liked the airship battle."

She nodded. "Yeah, the airship battle. It was a good idea, but it looked like 90s CGI."

"90s CGI?"

"Nevermind." It was almost easy to forget she had spent the past ten years on a completely different planet.

"This is your captain speaking," a voice interrupted. "Welcome aboard Patch Airlines Flight 114 from Vale to Patch. This is the last flight tonight. The weather's good, we're cleared for takeoff, and we should reach our destination within the hour. I hope you have a pleasant flight."

"You know, it was fun," Rose said quietly as the engines began to spool up. "Tonight, I mean."

She received only snoring in response. Tai had fallen asleep, head lolled over on her shoulder.

* * *

"So, this is Patch," Rose mused, surveying the village. The airport and docks were beside them, large enough to service the island's residents and not much bigger. Brightly-lit homes filled the valley and poked out of the trees. As she understood it, there was more to Patch, but what she could see was incredibly quaint compared to Vale or Manhattan.

It reminded her of the Catskill Mountains for some reason.

"This is Patch." Taiyang echoed. He pointed to a brightly lit castle-like building in the distance. "That's Signal."

Rose nodded. "Yeah, that seems familiar."

He kept pointing out landmarks. "That's the closest thing to a shopping centre on the island. Elementary school, park. Sheriff's office. The Resniks live over there- avoid them. That cottage is where Qrow supposedly lives. And that house is-"

"Ours," Rose finished.

Taiyang looked at her, surprised. "That's right. It's not much, but it's home."

Rose stared across the village at her residence. It was detached from the village and partially obscured by trees, perhaps considered a cottage by some definitions but far larger than her apartment in Manhattan. A garden dominated by roses sat in front of a crooked wooden porch.

"Home."

* * *

Originally, this was going to be part of the previous chapter, but both parts were getting longer than expected so I decided to split them up. I had a lot of trouble trying to write this chapter and it did get shortened a little. It's a very fluffy chapter; the next will have a bit more substance.

There will be one more chapter in the Homecoming arc. The next two arcs (will likely run concurrently) are tentatively titled _Intervention_ and _Hunt_. One is mostly OC and mostly set on Earth. The other is mostly canon characters and mostly set on Remnant.


	5. Homecoming IV

**Homecoming** **IV**

It was a beautiful evening at Beacon. The time was almost synchronized with Earth at the moment, and the campus was bathed in deep golden light from the sunset on one side and a milder glow from the portal on the other. The stately buildings of Beacon cast odd but mesmerizing shadows in the strange light. A few students roamed the stone-paved paths or congregated on the deep green grass, but most of them had retreated to their dorms or the library.

The two white-clad figures making their way toward the airship landing pads were not concerned with that beauty in the slightest.

"Are you leaving so soon, father?" Weiss asked. She struggled to keep up with her father's powerful gait.

"Yes," Siegfried answered simply. "My business in Vale is finished for the time being."

"And that business would be?" she asked.

Siegfried glared at his daughter. "I thought you were no longer interested in the company."

"I am not interested in running the company," Weiss answered. "That does not mean I am no longer curious."

"Very well." He humoured her request. "I came to Vale for two reasons. The first was to evaluate you. That goal was complete within hours of my arrival."

"And the other?"

"To gather intelligence on the Earthers, of course," he replied. "I must say that some of the information took me by surprise. On the other hand, we now know what to expect, and I believe I've learned enough to give us an edge on our competitors when the time comes."

 _Of course that's what he cares about_ , Weiss thought to herself.

Siegfried suddenly stopped in his tracks. "Before I leave, I do need to make one thing clear. Relinquishing your role in the future of the company does not mean you relinquish your responsibilities to the Schnee family."

She already knew where he was going with this, but asked anyway, "My responsibilities?"

"You are still a Schnee. Significant attention will be be focused on you. You must continue to act in a manner befitting a Schnee. We cannot afford an embarrassment to the family." Sensing a rebellious retort brewing in his daughter, Siegfried cautioned, "Do not forget where your funds come from. I can and I will freeze them if it is necessary."

"I understand fully, father." Caring was another question entirely.

Siegfried resumed his quick pace. "Good."

They continued in silence to the landing pads, where the angular Schnee Dust Company airship was already waiting. Its loading ramp was extended and its loud engines were already started, making any further complications impossible. Winter stood at the base of the ramp, flanked by a pair of guards. She shared a look with Siegfried before he climbed the ramp and boarded the airship.

Weiss smiled at her sister. Winter smiled back in reply before stepping aboard the airship and joining her father. The two guards followed, the ramp retracted, and the pilot wasted no time in rocketing the airship up and away.

Blake stepped out from behind a shrub behind her. The cat faunus reassured her girlfriend, "They'll be back."

"I know."

* * *

Rose got bored of Patch almost immediately. Except for the ever-present threat of the Grimm, it was like any quiet, sleepy island on Earth. Life was taken slow and relaxed and there wasn't a hell of a lot to do. It was a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Manhattan, and the country life was driving her crazy.

What she needed was something to do. Not a job, necessarily, though she was sure Tai would appreciate the extra income. She figured Signal would be a good place to start, and booked an appointment with the Headmaster of the junior academy.

That meeting had started off promising. They had exchanged pleasantries and talked briefly about the state of the world. The Headmaster explained briefly the history of the academy before they got down to business and things went downhill. Rose realized right away that she wasn't qualified to teach just about anything. Once, she would have been a great choice, but no longer.

Rose joked, "I could be the superpowered janitor, maybe?"

"I was thinking something a bit different," the Headmaster offered. "Earth is going to be a big part of our world in the coming years, and we need to prepare the next generation for that. You've spent enough time on Earth to have a good knowledge of it. Perhaps you pass that knowledge on to our students."

It was tempting. It would be something to do, and it would be useful to those kids. But she wanted to _do_ something, not stand at the front of a class and lecture. So she told the Headmaster that she'd think about it and went home.

Tai had brought up hunting- again- and she took a look- again. Huntsmen and huntresses were the protectors of humanity, the first and last line of defense, yadda yadda yadda. They were free agents, which was something she found interesting. Jobs were offered and taken, so she could dip her feet in instead of jumping in if she wanted to.

Her answer was the same.

She told herself that she didn't know enough about fighting Grimm to be go back to that. A small voice told her that wasn't it. Though Rose didn't want to admit it, she didn't want to leave her daughters without a mother again.

Another voice tore at her. _What about Alexandra?_

 _Alexandra has a loving family and never knew any other._ No, her place was here now.

Somewhere.

What else was on the island? She could stock groceries at the lone supermarket, or sell weird hippie clothing at Spectral Apparel. She could become a fisher if she didn't hate the ocean with a passion.

Rose looked into jobs in Vale as well. Airships ran regularly, and commuting was expensive but doable. But it was much the same story. There were jobs she wasn't qualified for, jobs that would have been mundane even on Earth, jobs she didn't even understand.

Then she saw the sign outside the sheriff's office.

"So I heard you was lookin' for a new sheriff," Rose said with an exaggerated accent as she strutted into the office.

She immediately regretted it. It wasn't that funny an introduction. The deputy laughed awkwardly as she apologized, explained that she was serious, and asked how if the position was still open.

The deputy introduced himself as Cerva. He explained that the previous sheriff, Tourmaline, had retired a year prior. Cerva himself considered himself more of a clerk with a badge than a real lawman, and mentioned that Hunters out of Signal had been doing most of the work.

"So, who are you looking for?" Rose asked.

"Honestly, at this point we'll take just about anyone who can use a weapon and isn't a criminal," the deputy had said with a harsh laugh. "Previous experience with law enforcement and a background in hunting are good, but I'm not expecting to see anyone with either of those, let alone both."

When she brought up that she had been a huntress before spending several years as a police officer (she didn't say where), the deputy practically started salivating. Rose was curious as to why hunting experience would be necessary, and the deputy explained that often stray Grimm were a bigger problem on the island than criminals.

It was sorely tempting to just go for it right then and there. She forced herself to step back and consider it for a moment. Was this really what she wanted?

"Give me a bit of time to think about it. I'll get back to you."

* * *

"I hate that guy," Weiss complained to her girlfriend as they relaxed in the familiar dorm room.

"I mean, I don't like him for obvious reasons, but he _is_ your father," Blake offered lamely. "I'm sure he loves you in his own way."

Weiss shook her head. "No. My father is a terrible human being. He cares about Winter and I as assets to the company, nothing more. The less I have to do with that shitshow, the better."

"Don't you think you're overreacting a bit?"

"No."

"You can't just ignore him," Blake mentioned. "He'll cut you off sooner or later. Then what are you going to do?"

The former heiress shrugged. "Dig up some dirt and go to the media. Stream Twitch. Sell myself on the street. Fucked if I know."

"That's not really a plan."

"It's not a good plan," Weiss admitted. "I'm sorry. I have no idea what you've even been up to this week. How was your day?"

"It was okay. I tried helping Ruby with her history assignment- that was pointless- and I sparred with Yang once. Mostly I've just been reading."

She raised an eyebrow. "Reading smut?"

"I don't really read those anymore," Blake reminded her.

Weiss smirked. "Sure you don't."

"You know, I already had this from Yang today." She pulled her book out from under her pillow and waved it in front of the former heiress's face. "See? Not smut."

"Forbidden Love? Sure that's not smut."

"It's actually a nonfiction about interracial relationships in twentieth-century America."

"Do I sense some symbolism?"

Blake nodded, putting down the book. "Weiss, what does this mean for us? Sooner or later, someone is going to find out and your father is not going to be happy."

The former heiress already knew where she was going. "Tell me what you're thinking, Blake."

It wasn't easy to say. "I'm thinking maybe we should end.. this."

"I don't _want_ to end this. Do you _want_ to end this?" Weiss asked firmly.

"Well, no, but-"

"Then we're not ending this," Weiss snapped. She reached over and took Blake's hand in her own. "You're right about one thing. Sooner or later, he'll find out about us. But when that happens, I'd rather face that with you beside me than face it alone."

* * *

"Ooh, fancy dress. I wonder if it still fits?" Rose said as she rifled through a closet full of her old clothing. "And a sharp fucking pantsuit. Is there anything not formal in here?"

"Your old huntress outfit should still be in there," Taiyang mentioned absentmindedly from his position on their bed.

"I wore this shit?" Rose asked, holding the offending outfit out for her husband to see.

"That was your outfit," Tai replied slowly.

"Well, not anymore." She carelessly tossed one component away with a laugh. "No capes!"

Tai's eye twitched, but he said nothing.

"It's getting late, I should probably call Ruby," Rose excused, grabbing her Scroll and heading downstairs to the living room.

 _I guess this is what passes for Skype here_ , Rose thought to herself. She set her Scroll down in the holder and tapped the call button. A few moments later, it connected and her daughter's face appeared on the holographic screen in front of her.

"Hi mom!" Ruby exclaimed ecstatically.

"Hi, Ruby. Is Yang around?"

"I think she went into town," Ruby answered. "It _is_ Friday night."

"She'd better not get into trouble," Rose growled before asking, "How's school going?"

"I forgot how intense it is. We have tons of homework and we're trying to get in fighting shape too," her daughter answered. "And Professor Port is _sooooo_ boring!"

"You know you'll thank them later." After a pause, Rose added. "Okay, maybe not Port. But Beacon's a good school."

"I know."

"So, I found a job. Maybe," Rose said to her daughter. "Patch is looking for a new sheriff and I think I could do that job. I haven't committed yet, but I think I'm going to take it. I'll be making a difference, but I can stay here, close to you and Tai."

"You're not going back to being a huntress?" Ruby asked, surprised. She tried to hide her disappointment, but her mother saw right through it.

"Not yet," Rose replied. "I've been away for a long time, Ruby. I need to get my bearings again. Some day I might go back to slaying monsters, but that day isn't today."

"I guess that makes sense," the crimsonette replied. "It's so weird being back on Remnant after Earth. But everything's different from before we left."

Rose agreed, "It's a different world out there. It's gonna take some getting used to."

"Yeah." Ruby yawned. "I think I should go to bed."

Rose checked her watch before realizing it was still on Eastern Standard Time. "That's probably a good idea. Say hi to your sister for me."

"Okay, bye mom."

* * *

Originally, this chapter was going to be longer and more Rose-centric, but I decided to cut it down because I felt the arc was getting overly long and bogged down. I think it still turned out a respectable length.

The next arcs are _Intervention_ and _Hunt_. I'm not sure which one will be written first.


	6. Hunt I

**H** **unt I**

Once again, Ozpin and his group of insiders convened under the slowly ticking clocks in his office. He took his usual seat behind his desk, with Glynda in front, Qrow leaning lazily against the wall, and Ironwood standing stiffly to one side.

The Headmaster's opening statement was simple. "We need to find those portal facilities."

"I heard the Earthers are looking for them," Glynda mentioned.

"Yes," Ironwood confirmed. "Ostensibly, they're scouting the portal for the coming intervention. It's troubling, but I doubt they'll find anything."

"Maybe there's nothing left to find," Qrow suggested.

"It's been weeks, Ozpin, and nobody has found any trace of those facilities," Ironwood added. "What makes you think we're going to have any more luck than anyone else?"

"Until this time, we have not been able to focus our efforts. Other concerns took precedence," Ozpin answered. "Qrow?"

"What? I never knew where any of the facilities were," Qrow told them. "Okay, maybe I can infer some from context. How much do we know?"

"There was the White Fang facility under Mountain Glenn, but I don't think that's it," Glynda offered.

"No, it isn't," Qrow confirmed. "The Vale facility was a big one, and it was separate from Mountain Glenn."

"There must have been some connection, some traffic between them," she surmised after a moment of thought. "A lot of the stolen Dust that wasn't going to Atlas was going to Mountain Glenn. They couldn't have used it all in those bombs."

"You think that Dust made its way to our mysterious facility?"

"We know the facility in Atlas was using a lot of Dust for something, so the one here must have been using it, too," Ironwood agreed.

Qrow nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. The two big facilities were Vale and Atlas, and everyone kind of implied they did the same thing."

"So how did they get the Dust from Point A to Point B?"

"They could have built a fortified railroad," Glynda suggested.

Qrow snorted. "Not if they wanted to hide it."

"They had quite a few Bullheads," Ozpin mentioned. "Most likely, that is how they transported the Dust."

"That doesn't narrow it down a lot. They have pretty good range."

"Why not just bring all the Dust straight to the facility." Ironwood asked rhetorically. "They were worried about the thieves who actually stole the Dust selling them out."

"We need to look at where _else_ the Dust was going to," the Headmaster said, catching on. He brought up a map of Vale and the surrounding area. A few keypresses later, a circle appeared around the already-highlighted location of Mountain Glenn.

Qrow stepped up to the holographic projection and pointed out several spots. "Wilderness outposts here, here, and here. An old White Fang camp here. And I think they used some of the warehouses over here as a dead drop."

More circles appeared on the projection, overlapping each other. The areas where they overlapped became darker and more opaque.

"That's still a pretty big area," Ironwood remarked.

"Wait, there's no way they could fly through here," Qrow mentioned, pointing out an area of the map. "It's Nevermore territory. The birds would rip them apart."

"They couldn't have flown close to the airport, either," Glynda added. Two large sections were cut out of the overlapping circles.

Ozpin focused intently on his display before tapping the screen a few times and bringing up another circle. "And one of our missions reported suspicious activity in this area, which could be another base."

There was now a small, dark green patch over the map, southeast of Vale. If their intelligence was correct, that was where the facility would be. It was still fairly large, but small enough to be searched by air.

Realizing a potential hangup, the General asked, "What if they used intermediate bases, maybe even ones we don't know about?"

"Then we will find nothing and we must try another approach," Ozpin told him.

"Well, we'll lose nothing by trying," Qrow pointed out. "Let's go find that base."

* * *

The Bullhead's engines screamed as it propelled the bulbous craft through the sky. It bumped up and down in the turbulent morning air, noticeable to the passengers but far from dangerous. A huntsman and a huntress stood on opposite sides of the passenger compartment, scanning the ground below and the sky above through the open doors. They were just as concerned with the Grimm that could be lurking out there as they were with finding their target.

Qrow noticed something that appeared to be out of place, but wasn't able to get a good view before it disappeared from view. He shouted to the cockpit, "There's something at our seven o'clock. Take us around for another pass!"

The pilot obliged, gently banking the tiltjet and bringing it around in a graceful arc. Qrow nudged Glynda gently, making a jerking motion with his head.

"I see it," Glynda stated. A small grey blotch was visible below them, contrasting with the bright green foliage surrounding them. "Do you think that's the facility?"

"I think it's worth checking out," he answered.

"Agreed." The huntress turned and headed into the cockpit. She tapped the pilot's shoulder to get her attention, then pointed out a spot on the ground. "Take us over there and hover."

"Will do." She banked the tiltjet again, bringing them around for a third pass.

Glynda went back into the rear compartment, taking position beside Qrow. As the Bullhead dropped toward the trees and slowed down, she prepared to jump. Once she was satisfied that the conditions were good, she stepped off the edge of the aircraft's floor. She landed gracefully, the impact driving her heels into the ground.

Qrow was right behind her, landing a few seconds later.

"It's been a while since we've done anything together, Glynda," Qrow said.

Glynda rolled her eyes before readying her weapon. "Let's just get this over with, shall we."

"I can get behind that." Qrow readied his own weapon, an ominous clinking sound echoing through the trees. Above them, the Bullhead soared away, loitering close enough to come back and pick them up if needed but far enough away to be out of danger.

It was a short walk to the suspected facility. The complex was larger than they had expected, consisting of several large grey buildings connected together. The forest, combined with judicious use of camouflage netting, made it hard to distinguish the true size of the facility. What they had seen from the air was a small part of it, presumably used to land Bullheads.

"It looks deserted," Glynda noted.

Qrow nodded. "Maybe they're trying to make it look that way."

They shared a look, realizing that they might be too late. A rusted steel entry door was set into the wall of the building directly in front of them. It was locked, but one hit from Qrow's sword got them inside.

The doorway opened into what was probably some kind of checkpoint, but now consisted only of broken glass and an empty desk. Beyond it was a hallway, separated by a blast door left completely open. The atmosphere was dank and heavy. The lights had long since failed, leaving the inside of the facility illuminated eerily by sunlight streaming through the windows and the occasional hole in the ceiling.

"Either they're gone, or it's a trap," Glynda whispered, her voice loud against the silence of the dead facility. She quickly snapped a picture with her Scroll. They were to document what they found, even if it did seem pointless.

Most of the building seemed to be living quarters, which were fairly spartan to begin with and now totally ransacked. Nothing of value was left, so they headed up a filthy staircase to what was a floor of offices. The air was sooty, and piles of ash were spread around the floor.

"They've been burning files," Qrow guessed. He sorted through one of the ash piles. A charred piece of paper crumbled in his hand. "Did a pretty damn good job, too."

They continued to a large corner office, a burnt sign designating it as the Administrator's Office. Inside was a large desk with a computer terminal on it. A safe was located in the wall, left open and devoid of contents. Glynda headed to the computer terminal. She took one look at it before frowning deeply.

"Any luck?" Qrow asked, guarding the door.

Glynda shook her head. The terminal was completely fried, its circuitry burned and melted by some kind of electrical discharge.

"So much for that idea."

The duo left the office complex, heading deeper into the facility. Another abandoned security station separated this building from the one behind it. A short, angled corridor and set of stairs led them down into a large open room. One corner was collapsed, light streaming in through the open ceiling. The floor below them was gritty, covered in a multicoloured powder.

Glynda knelt down and rubbed the powder between her fingers. "Well, this is where the Dust used to be."

"Yeah," Qrow replied as he photographed the room with his Scroll. "Nobody's home, not even the Grimm."

A large set of doors opposite the collapsed section was partially open, wide enough for them to squeeze through. On the other side was another large chamber, this one containing eight large cylindrical machines. The machines were covered in black burn marks and their twisted casings were full of jagged holes. Many of them had pools of copper solidified underneath them. Frayed cabling was visible where control boxes had once connected.

"Do you recognize those machines?" Glynda asked.

"Whatever they were, they're destroyed now." Qrow snapped one picture of the overall room and one closeup of the nearest machine before heading back into the Dust storage room.

The collapsed section was open to the outside and also to another part of the facility. They climbed over the rough pile of debris only to find the room on the other side no longer existed. One wall and part of the roof was still standing. The rest of the it had become the pile of rubble they were standing on, which completely covered the floor.

Sticking out of the rubble was the only interesting feature of the whole room. Atop a wide, round metal base was a narrower perforated cylinder, partially ripped open to expose broken wiring and shattered Dust crystals. At its top was a set of bent and broken arms that might have once held a Dust crystal if the red powder was anything to judge by.

Qrow gently prodded the device with his weapon. "Well, they really didn't want us to figure that thing out."

* * *

"So, the facility was a bust," Ironwood said to Glynda and Qrow as they entered the Headmaster's office.

"There wasn't much left," Glynda confirmed. "The equipment had all been ripped out or torn apart. Almost all the files were destroyed as well."

"They're on the run," Qrow surmised. "The Queen is trying to cover her tracks. Everything is expendable, as long as it doesn't get traced back to her."

"Without evidence, we cannot bring those responsible to justice," Ironwood reminded them. "We won't be able to find the other facilities, either, not with the intelligence we have now."

"Then we will look elsewhere," Glynda said. "A facility like that doesn't just appear out of nowhere. She had to have them built somehow."

"She's got to be taking this stuff somewhere," Qrow mentioned. "This project was the Queen's life work. At least the scientific data and the Spectral Dust, she's got to have that stashed away."

Noticing his relative silence, Ironwood asked the Headmaster directly, "What do you think?"

"The state of the facility is unfortunate, but not unexpected," Ozpin stated. He cautioned, "It is important that we find the other facilities, but we must not forget about the other potential dangers lurking out there."

"Such as?" Qrow asked.

"The virus that may have infected the CCT system. The resurgent White Fang. The Council. The Terran media that will reveal our secret." Ozpin stood and turned toward the large window behind his desk. The portal was just barely visible in the distance. "The newly revealed portals. And, of course, the Terrans themselves."

* * *

The next arc begins. I think the next chapter released will be the first chapter of Intervention rather than the second chapter of Hunt.

It's a bit rough, but things are starting to get busy for me so this may become an unfortunate trend.


	7. Intervention I

**Intervention I**

 _USS San Antonio_

In the Mediterranean Sea, a NATO battlegroup cruised toward its destination on the Turkish coast. Its mission was to land troops rather than engage in a battle at sea, and its composition was tuned toward that mission. A single supercarrier, the _Harry S. Truman_ , was the lynchpin of the group. British, French, and American landing ships cruised alongside reserve troopships. Destroyers, frigates, and a lone Aegis cruiser formed a formidable escort.

Inside the cavernous vehicle bay of the _San Antonio_ , a group of bored Marines waited. One was cleaning his rifle. Another was working on a humvee. Most just stood or sat around. Two green privates were playing cards.

Lance Corporal Brandon Reeves asked no one in particular, "What happened to no ground troops? I thought we were done with that part of the world."

"The Grimm happened, Reeves," a grizzled Sergeant said from inside the humvee.

"Man, it's hot as fuck in here," Reeves complained.

A lanky Marine wearing the stripes of a Lieutenant approached the group, edging his way around a LAV. This was his first deployment, and he was careful not to show his shaky confidence. He asked his men simply, "How are we doing?"

"Cleared hot, Lieutenant," the Sergeant answered.

"Sir, I heard we're going into Syria alongside the Russians and the Atlesians," the Lance Corporal said to the officer. "Is that really happening?"

"That's what they told me, too, Lance Corporal, but I have no information on whether that is true or not," Lieutenant Martin Perelli replied. "I've been told Colonel Beckwood will address us today. Hopefully he'll have the answers you're looking for."

"Do you think it's true, sir?" a green private sitting against the wall asked.

"Not too long ago, I would have said hell no, but it's a pretty fucked up world out there," he answered. "We're just going to have to wait for Colonel Beckwood to pass the information down."

"Yes, sir."

"I fucking hate Beckwood," Reeves muttered to the private beside him. "He's one of those guys who love speeches, but his speeches suck fucking dick."

The Lieutenant glared at him. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Lance Corporal."

"Attention on deck!" a loud voice called. "Marines form up!"

"Fucking Navy," a PFC muttered, nonetheless getting into formation as best as possible given the tight confines of the vehicle bay.

"Good morning, Marines," the Colonel began, his voice uneven. "We're headed for Turkey, and then for Syria where we will launch an offensive into that country. I believe that information has already been disseminated."

"This will be a joint operation. We will be joining up with NATO forces and entering through the Turkish border. The Russians will be coming from the Syrian government side. The portal has been located on Remnant and the Atlesians will be joining us from their side.

"This is a kind of cooperation almost unheard of in the history of the US Marines. The last time we worked this closely with so many disparate people was the Second World War. I expect every Marine to be extra careful to avoid any incidents. This is an opportunity but things could also go very badly if we do not do our jobs properly.

"Our mission is simple. We are to push through the contested territory of Syria, secure the town of Raqqa and secure the portal. The Grimm are already moving onto our world and we want to nip that in the butt before that becomes a problem. We're preventing a military disaster from becoming a human one."

"The complication is ISIL. Technically, they are not our mission, but we fully expect them to interfere. They're scattering, but they're still going to take potshots on their way out. If they interfere with our mission, destroy them. Those are our orders from on high."

He concluded, "Good luck out there. We might need it. Semper Fi, Marines."

* * *

 _Damascus_

General-Colonel Alexei Simonov stood and watched as his forces assembled, face impassive.

If he were to be brutally honest, he did not think the grand plan he was now part of would ever go through. Not too long ago, they were supporting Assad and the Americans were supporting their enemies. It was like the Cold War all over again.

He surveyed his forces. At his disposal was a heavy mechanized force composed of elements of the 49th Army. Some of the units traced their ancestry back to the Second World War. Others had fought in Afghanistan and Chechnya, though he doubted any veterans remained. At a nearby airbase, the VVS was preparing to support their armies from above, and ships of the Black Sea Fleet patrolled offshore. The Russian Federation was putting their best foot forward.

Soon they would be heading north, into rebel-held territory. Their strategy was simple. Smash through all resistance and secure the portal site. They would finally be taking back the country as Assad had always wanted. Of course it would require a literal alien invasion to make that happen. The portal would remain under nominal Syrian control, as a concession to the establishment of the Joint Military Zone in Ukraine.

He had his reservations about his allies. The Syrian Army was not a powerful or well-trained force, though they seemed to have spirit at least. The American-lead NATO force was the opposite. They were well-trained and well-equipped and he knew it. The question was whether they'd be able to work with his forces or not. The Atlesians, of course, were a complete unknown. Their technology appeared potent, but he had no idea of their doctrine or training.

"These are strange times, General," the man beside him, a deeply tanned two-star general of the Syrian Arab Army, mentioned.

Simonov nodded. "Strange times indeed."

* * *

 _Atlesian Airship Sunrise Point_

Hundreds of miles away from the other side of the portal, a far different fleet sat in wait. This one floated in the air and bore the distinctive marking of the Kingdom of Atlas.

Leading the fleet was a massive flying machine the size of an aircraft carrier. The _Sunrise Point_ wasn't the newest or most powerful ship in the fleet- that honour went to the brand new _Spirit_ class- but it had been overhauled only a year prior and its command and control suite was top-notch. Behind it cruised a pair of smaller _Azurit_ -class airships full of Atlesian robots and troops. Small gunships patrolled around the fleet, watching for threats.

General Lili Rook had been hesitant about the mission. It meant a month or months away from her wife and daughters, a deployment unusual even in Atlas. Ultimately, the top brass forced her hand. Her stunt at the portal had turned heads, and she wasn't sure if she was being given this assignment as a reward or as punishment. Maybe it was a bit of both.

As she stepped onto the high-tech bridge of the _Sunrise Point_ , she reflected wryly that it was a little too late to think about that. Her firm voice barked, "Report!"

"Engineer reports Engine Four running a little rough, but otherwise all systems are good. Combat systems in standby," the First Officer replied. " _Malakit_ and _Aventurin_ are holding position behind us."

"What about our scouting party?"

"They returned just half an hour ago," he informed the General. "They report heavy Grimm concentrations around the portal site."

Rook nodded. "Then let's start purging them, Colonel. The fewer Grimm going through the portal, the easier it'll be for our allies on the other side."

Allies. She snorted. Despite her previous actions, she trusted the Earthers as far as she could throw them- which, if the rumours were true, was actually pretty far. She knew that the reasons for agreeing to this joint effort were far from altruism. Some of it was about building goodwill with the Earthers, or at least a debt. A lot of it was about securing the portal site for their own potential use. From what she'd heard, the portal was in an unimportant but contested area. She was sure the Earthers had their own agenda. Everyone did.

It wasn't a good thing or a bad thing, just a necessary reality.

She strode over to a station near the aft end of the bridge. "Hook us into the CCT and transmit our status report," Rook ordered. "Tell them we're holding position and awaiting further orders."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

I'm not exactly happy with this kickoff, but the next few chapters should be fairly... interesting.


	8. Hunt II

**H** **unt I** **I**

Qrow Branwen turned over his weapon, totally oblivious to the movement of the Bullhead around him as he flicked off a spec of rust. He asked the blonde woman sitting across from him, "So, do you think we're going to find anything?"

Glynda Goodwitch answered honestly, "It's the best lead we have right now, but I have my doubts."

"Yeah, so did the old man." He asked idly, "So, how long do you think before they find out?"

Glynda folded her arms. "Find out what? That we're here?"

"Nah, not that." Qrow elaborated, "How long do you think everyone finds out about the cartoon version of us on the other world?"

"The portals are heavily secured," Glynda answered. "Very few have crossed them, they've all been specially briefed- at least, I hope they have- and for the most part they're isolated"

"Yeah, I know about that," he interrupted. "I'm talking about our people who spent some time over there."

"We instructed them very carefully on-"

"You don't know my nieces. One of them will talk, sooner or later," Qrow said. He laughed. "If that Valkyrie girl doesn't beat them to it."

Glynda replied, "Well, maybe no one will care. Maybe the world will blow up anyway. Sooner or later it will happen, and someone will have to deal with the mess."

"Yeah, well, now's not the time I guess," the huntsman replied dismissively as the Bullhead landed with a dull thud. He sheathed his weapon and stepped out into the forest. "I'm going to go ahead and scout out the place."

* * *

Professor Ozpin strode confidently through the entrance of the high-end cafe. Though he was not the usual clientele, nobody in their right mind would give a huntsman of his reputation any hassle. The place wasn't to the headmaster's personal tastes, but he was meeting with a man of significant stature- or at least one who liked to play the part.

"Headmaster Ozpin," Siegfried Schnee greeted, standing and extending his hand. "A pleasure, as always."

Ozpin replied neutrally, "Mister Schnee. Likewise."

"Please, sit," the businessman said, motioning to a seat. A waiter came by and filled two elegant cups with fine espresso.

"You've been visiting Vale a lot lately," Ozpin mentioned, taking a sip. "I assume this has to do with Earth."

He nodded. "The Atlas portal might as well have a wall around it. All the diplomats and businessmen are here. The construction of Rift Station will begin soon, and the contracts for it are lucrative- but that's here. There's nothing equivalent in Atlas. Simply put, the opportunities are here in Vale."

"Hmm."

Siegfried gently set his glass down. "You were very anxious to meet, Headmaster. I take it this is not about my business activities?"

"Well, in a way," Ozpin replied. "You've had some dealings with a company called the Gradient Corporation, yes? I understand this was, in fact, a shell corporation used to hide dealings with a... faction of some significance."

He tensed up. "It's Schnee company policy not to disclose the information of our clients."

"This could be important to the safety of our world."

The Schnee refused to budge. "So you say. Until I believe as such, it is not my concern."

"A favour to an old friend, then." Ozpin smirked slightly.

"That's not exactly the word I'd use to describe our relationship," Siegfried growled. "But I am a man of my word. What are you looking for, exactly?"

He cut to the chase. "The facilities used by the one who created the portals."

"We were involved setting up several facilities for the client you speak of, though not directly," he answered reluctantly. "In hindsight, I can guess what they were ultimately used for, but I would be very surprised if any had not been stripped. Our client was very thorough with compartmentalizing information. However, three seagoing platforms were built at incredible cost and absolute secrecy. Our involvement with those was minimal, and strictly speaking I should not even know of them."

"How do you, then?"

The Schnee patriarch replied cryptically, "I have my sources."

"Where are they?" Ozpin asked directly.

"I don't know," Siegfried answered. "I can hazard a few guesses, however. Two were likely used to open the sea portals. If they were not found or sunk, they will be soon. The third was likely used in Atlas after the larger facility was destroyed."

"Do you know _where_ the third facility is?"

He shook his head. "No. That's beyond what my sources can provide me. Your friend the General would be in a better position to find it."

"Tell me, Siegfried, did you willingly work with the White Fang?"

Siegfried replied tersely, "I only learned of that later, during my own investigations. When the contract was signed, all we knew was that this would be as shadowy as it would be lucrative."

"You have no knowledge of an outpost east of Vale, then?" Ozpin probed.

The Schnee patriarch chuckled darkly. "That one I can speak freely about. Our own security forces have been observing it for some time. I am afraid that one belongs to the White Fang alone."

* * *

"A few guards, Qrow?" Glynda snapped, irritated. She flicked her crop, sending one of them flying through a plate glass window. "This place is full of White Fang!"

The mission had gone successfully at first. They had approached their target- a makeshift camp built around the ruins of an old observatory- without being detected. Their mission was to investigate the place, not wipe it out. They- well, mostly Qrow- had explored half the camp before concluding that what they were looking for wasn't here. They figured the old observatory might have some answers, but it was nothing but a pile of rubble.

Then one of the eagle-eyed faunus spotted them on their way out, and all hell broke loose.

Guards began shouting and opened fire as the rest of the terrorists geared up to fight. By Glynda's estimate, they were perhaps a few dozen in total. Qrow had dispatched the one who'd spotted them in a flying leap before the rest started swarming them.

"I couldn't get a good look!" Qrow replied defensively, swinging his weapon and taking down a large deer faunus trying to flank them. "Besides, you agreed with me."

The huntress didn't answer, instead bringing down the remains of a telescope mount on top of a group of terrorists. Another jumped through the plate glass window with two large rifles raised. Glynda threw up a shield, blocking the barrage of bullets as Qrow leaped over her and brought his scythe down on top of him.

"I don't get a thank you?" Qrow mock-complained. Two more White Fang thugs were approaching from the camp, weapons in hand. He shifted his scythe into gun mode and blew them away.

A pair of White Fang guards took position at the edge of the broken observatory roof and raised their weapons. Glynda flicked her crop again, shifting a section of rubble and sending the compromised structure collapsing beneath their feet. She snapped at her companion, "No."

"Spoilsport," Qrow joked as he turned toward a lone faunus bringing up her rifle. He transformed his weapon into its scythe form and swung, sending the straggler flying. He took a look around before folding up his weapon again. "I'm pretty sure this is a training camp. It's not what we're looking for."

Satisfied that the camp was clear, Glynda put away her crop. She frowned. "All that work for nothing."

In reply, Qrow offered, "Well, we know where not to look now."

"We found the White Fang," Qrow reported, exasperated. Behind him, Glynda looked on. "Nothing else. Just some White Fang."

"It was a slim lead to begin with," Headmaster Ozpin reiterated from his position behind his desk. "However, I have acquired new information while you were on your mission."

"How?"

"I called in a favour from an old friend," Ozpin explained. "He told me of an outpost at sea near Atlas, likely to be used as a fallback location."

"It fits," Qrow agreed after a pause. "She'd want to bring everything close to home where she can keep an eye on it, and the Atlas site is gone. It would be a lot harder to find an offshore site, too."

"Why wouldn't she just destroy all of it?" General Ironwood questioned.

"If you spent your whole life building something great, would you?" Qrow asked rhetorically. "She can't do it. That's not her personality."

"I agree," Ozpin said.

"So, how do we find something designed to be hard to find?" Glynda asked.

"I can answer that," General Ironwood said. "Atlas has the best tracking network in the world. It's meant for the Grimm, but we have a pretty good idea about which ships and aircraft are in our territory. No doubt she knows that and has everything covered up, but we should be able to filter out the-"

Qrow cut him off. "So you can find it?"

The General nodded. "I can't offer any guarantees, but there's a good chance we will."

"Can you help us get there faster, too?" Glynda asked.

"It will take some time to get to Atlas- that is something that cannot be avoided," he answered. "However, the _Azure Blade_ is rotating back next week and I can sneak you aboard. Hopefully the Queen will not have any warning and we will be able to take her by surprise."

Ozpin nodded. "Good. It would be foolish to get too excited, but hopefully we will find something this time."

* * *

The suspected portal facility was an impressive construction. Several slate grey structures, some adorned with antennas or visible machinery, were arranged on a large rectangular platform. The platform itself sat on a pair of thin, widely spaced hulls that poked above the surface of the sea. A few gun emplacements were visible, but they stayed silent. Most of the platform's lights were off.

A lone Bullhead approached from above, its loud engines cutting through the calm serenity of the sea.

"Well, this is it," Qrow announced with a flourish. "Has to be. Ironwood's people ran the numbers, and it has to be here."

As they circled around, Glynda noticed a few sections of the platform that were burnt, blackened, and ripped apart. She raised her Scroll and snapped a picture. "Was there a fight here?"

"It looks like it," Qrow concurred.

Glynda pursed her lips. "That's not good."

"This is supposed to be a fallback location," Qrow surmised. "But I wouldn't be surprised if she's already-"

A pointy object streaked out of the clouds, visible for only a second before slamming into the platform and exploding. Two more followed, one diving onto the other side of the platform and the other one hitting the same side near the waterline. Entire chunks of the platform were reduced to clouds of metallic debris. One more came in a few seconds later, dove between the hulls and detonated underwater.

The platform was almost instantly aflame, smoke pouring out of the damaged sections. Colourful secondary explosions dotted the flaming platform. Steel structure buckled and broke with horrifying screeches. Entire sections dropped into the sea as the heavily damaged platform fell apart under its own weight. Metal screamed as the hulls broke apart from each other, tilted over, and began to sink.

What they were looking for would soon be at the bottom of the ocean and there was nothing they could do about it. Qrow muttered darkly, "So much for that idea."

* * *

I wish I could have made this chapter better, but... time. The Remnan Exchange is likely to be thinner and shorter than I had hoped, but perhaps better than I had expected. I am already putting together Hunt III, but I'm not sure if it will be released before or after Intervention II.

I highly suggest you start following the Asides if you haven't started already. Some of it is fluff or even crack, but some of it will tie into the main story. It's sometimes hard to decide what should be an Aside and what should be in the main story.


	9. Hunt III

**H** **unt I** **I** **I**

It was a slow day at the sheriff's office. If Rose were to be perfectly honest with herself, there were rarely exciting days on the island. The worst the island had to offer was petty theft and Grimm sightings. It was nothing compared to the occasional cesspit of despair that was the Big Apple.

But it was something.

"Can I help you..." Rose asked automatically, noticing someone enter her office. She looked up from her paperwork. "Qrow?"

"So you really are the new Sheriff," the rough huntsman remarked, dropping into a chair across from her desk. "I wasn't sure if the rumours were true, but honestly I'm not surprised."

Rose put down the paperwork. "I was getting kind of bored with the whole empty-nester desperate housewife schtick, and this job was open."

"You're a _sheriff_." It was half question, half deadpan statement.

"It keeps me on my toes," she answered. "Last week I shot a stray Grimm. Yesterday, I got a cat down out of a tree. Right now, I have my deputy out trying to figure out who's been tagging the east seawall."

"Tagging?" Qrow asked.

She snapped her fingers. "That's what he said, too. It's a kind of graffiti."

"You're trying to figure out who's spraying paint on a concrete wall?" Qrow deadpanned. "That's really what you do these days?"

"My money's on those fucking Resnik kids," she said with a laugh. "I'm not going to lie, it's not the most exciting job in the world, but it's something to do. I don't know if I'm in this for the long run but I'm still trying to figure that out."

The huntsman nodded, "Ozpin wants me to push you, but I agree. You've got to figure this out for yourself."

"I'm not sure if it can be," she replied wryly. "So, have you heard anything from Earth? I only get rumours out here. I don't even know who won the kickoff game."

"I think they want to broadcast the Vytal Festival on Earth, and it looks like it's gonna happen. In return, we might be getting something called BBC World Service," he answered. "And the Americans want to start bombing the White Fang."

"Of course they do." Rose mentioned, "You know, I figured Tai would have filled you in."

"I actually haven't talked to Tai in a while," Qrow replied honestly. "I've been busy on a mission."

"Oh? How did that go?" Rose asked.

"Had its ups and downs," he answered with a shrug. "Actually, that's why I'm here- sort of. There's something I want you to take a look at."

Her curiosity was piqued- along with her suspicion. "Okay."

Qrow brought up a few pictures on his scroll and handed it to Rose. "Any idea what these are?"

Rose examined the pictures. They were all blurry, clearly taken at a distance from unusual angles. Two showed a slender shape against the sky. One showed a similar shape about to hit what looked like a hull. She replied, "Missiles."

"I know that," Qrow stated. "I want to know what kind. These don't match anything Ironwood knows about, and we've been wondering if they're Earthican."

"First, we prefer _Terran_. Second, I'm ex-cop, not ex-Navy," she replied before taking another look. "It's really hard to tell- these pictures are shit- but that looks kinda like a Standard missile."

"Standard missile?"

"It's a Navy weapon. I don't know if that's actually what it's called of if it's just the normal kind of missile they use," she explained. "One of my shooting buddies was in the Navy. He talked about this kind of stuff a lot but I never really paid attention. Wouldn't have recognized it if I hadn't binged The Last Ship just before I got here."

"I didn't understand half of what you just said."

She clarified, "It could be Terran, if that's what you're asking, but you really should ask someone who actually knows what the fuck they're looking at."

He stood to leave. "Thanks, Summer."

"What, that's it?" Rose prodded, deliberately exaggerating her disappointment. "You're not going to tell me what's going on?"

He didn't answer. "Nope."

"Fuck you, Qrow," she called.

"That's stronger than I remember." Qrow laughed from the doorway. "See you around."

* * *

With the platform destroyed and no more leads on other facilities, it seemed that it was over. They had not found what they were looking for, exactly, but they were fairly sure it was at the bottom of the ocean. Their real goal was to make sure the technology was not used again, and in that way they had succeeded. On the other hand, Ozpin had a feeling that it wasn't quite over, that he was still missing one of the pieces.

So he went to the source. To her credit, the Queen had not attempted to avoid an encounter. She- or her staff- had given Ozpin a date and time with no objection. A few days later, he arrived in Atlas and waited patiently for the meeting.

"The Queen will see you now," a sharply uniformed orderly announced.

"Thank you," the Headmaster acknowledge before following her into the Queen's sitting room.

Like most things associated with the Atlesian royals, the sitting room was luxurious, but a few steps below what one would expect from royalty. Part of that was history- even when they had been the sitting rulers of Mantle, the royal family had always tried to be pragmatic. Part of that was because of Atlas. The once-proud royal family was a puppet at best and Atlas made sure they always knew that.

"Headmaster Ozpin," the Queen greeted. She did not get up from her chair.

He bowed. "Your highness."

"For what reason did you request this audience, Headmaster Ozpin?" she asked formally.

The headmaster deferred, "May we speak privately?"

The Queen turned to the sharply dressed guard standing by the entrance. "You may leave us now."

The guard tensed. She hesitated for a moment before bowing and turning to leave.

"Please, sit," the Queen offered, motioning to a luxurious chair across from her.

Ozpin took the offered seat. "Much appreciated."

"Please, tell me why you came all the way here to see me," she asked disarmingly. Of course, she had her own suspicions.

"The portals," he answered simply. "I have spent the past few months tracing their origin. I know you are the one behind them. I know you have worked with the White Fang and I know you have orchestrated the attack in Vale. I will admit it is impressive that you managed to get so many disparate groups working toward one goal, even if they were not aware of their parts."

"You must have a good reason for not exposing me entirely, then," the Queen probed, voice neutral and poker face in full force.

He replied carefully, "I could if I wished to. However, I believe it will bring more harm than good for everyone involved."

"You are looking for something," the Queen asked directly. "What is that, Headmaster?"

"Closure, I suppose," Ozpin answered. "We investigated several of your facilities and found them all to be destroyed or repurposed- all except for one."

"Except for the final fallback location at sea," the Queen revealed, hoping for a better reveal in return. "Unfortunately, it was destroyed a week ago."

"For all you know, I could have been the one to destroy it," he pointed out.

"Please, Headmaster, don't patronize me." She smiled slightly, pushing Ozpin to show his hand. "If you did so, we would not be having this conversation, would we?"

"Did _you_ destroy the platform?"

"I could tell you that I destroyed it rather than let you find it . But I don't think you would accept that as an answer."

"Then what _is_ your answer?"

"I have no idea who destroyed that platform," she replied, an edge to her voice. She would use her very real anger to her advantage. "It could have been one of the many cogs in the now-broken machine. It could have been someone from outside. And, as you have pointed out, it could have been been you."

"Was that the last of it?" Ozpin asked.

The Queen weighed the possible meaning of his statement. Was he looking for another copy because he wanted it or because he wanted it destroyed. "All the remaining equipment is gone, yes. It was either destroyed or moved to the platform, then destroyed in the attack."

"That is a suspiciously specific answer," Ozpin replied, refusing to reveal his hand.

She refused to budge. "You asked a suspiciously specific question."

Ozpin laid all his cards on the table. "Very well. I came here to offer you a deal. If you entrust all that remains of the portal project to me, I will consider this manner settled. I am offering you your kingdom for your information."

She chewed her lip. "It's not easy to give up your life's work."

"Believe me, I am well aware," he answered wryly.

The Queen stood and took five paces to cabinet against the wall. She opened it, revealing a sturdy safe. It took her only moments to enter the well-practised combination, retrieve one item from the safe, and close it again. Wordlessly, she offered a small stack of storage drives to the Headmaster.

"Is that all?" Ozpin questioned.

She laughed harshly. "Digital storage has come a long way in the past fifty years, Headmaster. This is it, you have my word."

He took the drives and tucked them into his jacket. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," the Queen said icily. On one hand, she was relieved to no longer have to deal with that burden. On the other, she was terrified at handing it over. She mentioned, "You know as well as I do that it will return soon enough."

Ozpin raised an eyebrow. "It?"

" _She_ will return, if you insist on the terminology," the Queen corrected. "Are you so sure your myths and legends will be able to stop it?"

"That's a _very_ ironic statement from you."

"My myths and legends did not work out, as you are well aware. I fear yours will not either."

The headmaster didn't answer. He stood and bowed. "Thank you for your audience, your highness."

"The pleasure was mine." She stood as well before reminding him, "We both have the same interests at heart, Headmaster. Do not forget that."

* * *

Far below the shining towers of Beacon was a cavernous vault, as secret as it was secure. At one end was a large and complex machine, containing a brown-haired woman in a glass tube. Two men stood before the machine. Both were concerned. One did not show it. The other showed nothing but it.

"The stasis technology is untested and it was never designed to be used for a long period of time," Ironwood stated, concerned. "We need to make a decision soon."

"We cannot not rush this," Ozpin implored. "Her intended successor is far from ready, and though her condition has improved I have my doubts about reviving her."

"And if we lose her?"

"We will not lose her," the Headmaster insisted. He changed topics. "There is one other matter."

"The portal research?" Ironwood surmised.

Ozpin nodded. "Yes. It cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands, nor should it ever be used again."

"Can I ask you something personal?"

The Headmaster nodded. "Of course, James."

"Was it about justice, Ozpin, about saving the world, or about being in control?" the General asked piercingly.

"Many wish to build a new world, free from the problems of the last," he mused in reply, refusing to answer directly. "Most only repeat old mistakes."

"And some change the world for the better," Ironwood reminded him.

"We are dealing with extremely dangerous forces, James," Ozpin implored. He paused before removing a folder from his jacket and stashing it inside a control console. "In any case, that information is useless to us. It is encrypted."

"You know, the Earthers have an interested view on prophecy," Ironwood mentioned offhand.

"Have faith, my friend," Ozpin said reassuring. "Though they have been disruptive, in the grand scheme of things the events of the past few months are of little consequence."

"I'm not sure to hope whether you're right or wrong anymore."

* * *

Gracefully cutting its way through the choppy water at twenty-one knots, the USS _Jason Dunham_ was an intruder by every definition. To Remnan eyes, it would have appeared a laughable excuse for a warship with its single prominent 5"/62 Mark 45 gun. But it was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Its AN/SPY-1D(V) phased array radar and Aegis Combat System was unlike anything used on the planet and its powerful missiles could swat even the toughest opponents out of the sky. Its quartet of General Electric LM2500 gas turbines burned a fuel rarely used on Remnant and could propel the ship to over thirty knots.

Mission complete, the _Jason Dunham_ was heading home. Its destination was the portal sitting south of Atlas from one point of view, and smack in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle from another.

"I'll give the Air Force credit where credit is due, their intel was good," Lieutenant Commander Zoe Bayliss said to the man standing beside her on the bridge.

"It could have been better. That was a hell of fight. We lost good men on that platform," Commander Mike Shotton, CO of the _Dunham,_ replied.

"That was the risk, sir," the XO reminded him.

"Oh, I know, Bayliss, but tell that to Lieutenant Yeates," Commander Shotton replied grimly.

"Sir, one minute to the portal," the navigator interrupted. Up ahead, the shimmering surface, glowing slightly against the dark night, grew closer.

"Understood, Lieutenant," Commander Shotton acknowledged. "Chief, inform the crew."

"All hands, standby for portal transition," a deep voice announced.

It would be their fourth time crossing the divide, and the portals were still oddly surreal. There was a slight lurch, a feeling of vertigo, a brief flash of blurry vision and then they were through. It still night on the Terran side as well, though the full moon made it brighter than it had been on Remnant.

"Sir, we are now in Terran waters," the navigator stated.

The captain proceeded to the rear of the bridge, picking up a microphone from the wall. "Attention all hands. We are now once again in Terran waters. I realize this has been a stressful mission for all involved. I know it's not easy sacrificing what we have sacrificed when information has been so scarce. Once again I must reiterate that the nature of this mission must remain absolutely secret. Thank you."

"Think it'll work out?" Bayliss asked.

Commander Shotton didn't answer. He ordered, "Secure EMCON. Signal the _Eisenhower_ , tell them we're happy to see them. Get on SATCOM and inform NCA package is secure."

* * *

I feel almost like this should have capped off Convergence, and in fact at one point I think I had intended to end it this way. There are a few callbacks to Those You Leave Behind here, and I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Yes, the description of the _Jason Dunham_ might have been a little wanky, but I promise I will do something similar when a Remnan flying battleship appears on Earth.


	10. Intervention II

**Intervention II**

 _Kobane, Syria_

Malik ibn Khalid al-Rashid gazed through a pair of well-worn binoculars at the coming storm. His vantage point had once been a hotel, now a barely recognizable bombed-out hulk. The city was mostly in the hands of the Kurds now, but ISIS attacks from the south were becoming more frequent every day. The stench of explosives and death still hung from the last battle. ISIS was getting desperate.

All that was about to change, one way or another.

"Bloody Yanks are bringing in the whole damn Marine Corps," he said to the young woman beside him.

In response, she gave only a quizzical look.

"The Americans are coming in a large force from the north, with many soldiers and many tanks," he repeated in rough Kurdish. He held out the binoculars for his partner to look through.

The cloud on the horizon was not really a cloud, but a mass of many distinct shapes. It was a column of tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, and humvees. There were hundreds on the well worn road, moving at full speed toward them. Though the woman didn't know it, this was only the advance force, the tip of the speak Colonel Beckwood talked about.

"We must tell the others," she said excitedly, passing the binoculars back before slinging her rifles. "We will be liberated!"

He wasn't quite so sure. Sure, things were different this time- just like they were last time. The liberators would come in and liberate, put in a token effort of setting things up again, and then leave the locals to rebuild. A new civil war would break out and a new dictator would rise. He was a jaded cynic when he deployed to Iraq, when he went to Syria, and when he came back to Syria again.

"Yeah, we'll be liberated all right."

* * *

"Welcome to Kobane," Lance Corporal Reeves mused from behind the wheel of the Humvee. "How come we never get to go anywhere nice?"

"At least they're welcoming us," Private Fred Tate, a "green" or "boot" Marine, muttered from behind him.

The welcome was indeed warm. Haggard men and women, many of them armed, emerged from the ruined buildings of the city. They clapped and cheered and waved as the Marines crept through the town. A young woman waved an improvised American flag from a damaged balcony, and a trio of armed fighters opened fire into the air at the end of the street. It was a strange experience for the Marines, many of who had never deployed outside the United States. Most of the ones that did had been greeted with mistrust and hostility in Iraq or Afghanistan.

"You know, a lot of people welcomed the Nazis in 1939," Reeves mentioned offhand. He drummed his hands on the wheel as they slowed to a stop.

"Lance Corporal, what the fuck?" Lieutenant Perelli snapped from beside him. Like the Marines under his command, he scanned the buildings for threats and kept his weapon at the ready despite the appearance of safety.

"Man, if there's anything I love, it's getting compared to Nazis," Tate complained from the back.

Reeves threw his hands up into the air. "I'm just saying."

"We're here to stop the Grimm, not take over the country," Perelli reminded them. "Better enjoy this while it lasts. Somehow I don't think IS is going to be quite so welcoming."

"Whoa!" Reeves shouted as a man wearing dirty fatigues ran out in front of the convoy, waving his arms. An AKM rifle was slung loosely from his shoulder. Their turret gunner immediately trained his Mark Nineteen automatic grenade launcher on the man.

"Do not fucking shoot that man!" the Lieutenant ordered. He got on the radio. "Lancer one-actual, I have a local attempting to make contact, request permission to dismount and make contact."

The crackly reply came a moment later. "Permission granted, four-actual."

"Park it," he ordered.

Reeves put the humvee back into gear and pulled to the right, bringing the heavy vehicle up onto what was probably once a curb.

"Let's meet the locals." Perelli swung the door open and hopped out. Several Marines quickly formed up around him, weapons at the ready. A few more stood by to guard their humvee.

A woman ran up to the armed man, and they exchanged a few words in Kurdish before he held up a hand and turned toward the Marines. The man held his hands apart, away from his weapon. He smirked as he approached Perelli.

The Lieutenant spoke into his radio, "Lancer one-actual, requesting a terp-"

"No need, Lieutenant," the man interrupted, pronouncing his rank in the British way. In fact, his accent sounded British, though at first glance he appeared to be a Syrian Arab. "Malik ibn Khalid al-Rashid. You can call me Nigel. It's probably easier for you to pronounce."

"British?" Perelli asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

"Parachute Regiment, years ago. Then a very different service." He held out his hand. "Welcome to Kobane. I know you are very much in a hurry so just get your superiors on the horn. I will tell you what you need to know and let you be on your way. I suspect things will soon get very interesting for you."

* * *

"This is the situation," Beckwood announced to the Marine officers gathered outside his humvee. He unfolded a map on top of a chunk of building serving as a table. "We've got a big fucking convoy heading north from Raqqa straight to our position. Hundreds of vehicles, perhaps over a thousand."

"Civilian or military, sir?" a Captain asked immediately.

"Mixed. Islamic State and civilian." He nodded briefly toward Perelli. "According to a report from the local militia, this isn't the first time this has happened. They use civilians as meat shields. Everyone is in a hurry to get out of Raqqa to the point of preferring to die to bullets than to Grimm. Though our contact was not specific, collateral damage has been heavy in the past."

"Jesus Christ."

"No shit." the Colonel agreed. "Fortunately, this time things are a little different. We have reason to believe IS is evacuating the city for good. They have a handful of tanks with them, as well as several MRAPs and light armoured vehicles. These are considered military targets and our helos will take them out.

"We will not be going in first this time. That honour goes to elements of the 1st Tank Battalion. They will move ahead and destroy any resistance that remains before they can reach the town. Our job is to mop that up. Mostly we will be dealing with civilians, but there could be IS opposition as well- suicide bombers, hidden gunmen. That's where we come in."

"Sir, which side of caution do we err on?"

"If it looks dangerous, kill it. Our primary objective remains securing that portal," Beckwood reinforced. "We will minimize civilian casualties, but collateral damage is inevitable."

* * *

 _Outside Ain Issa, Syria_

The Islamic State convoy had no warning of an incoming attack. One moment, they were racing north. They were alert, aware of the danger from both the monsters behind them and the infidels ahead, but not expecting to be struck suddenly. The next moment, they were fighting for their lives.

Four AH-1Z Viper attack helicopters raced over the horizon, heading straight for the convoy. Each carried eight Hellfire missiles and fourteen APKWS guided rockets. Their first targets were the tanks at the edges of the convoy; four T-72s and a pair of T-55s. One Hellfire each was enough to reduce the hopelessly obsolete tanks into piles of burning scrap.

The convoy began to scatter, IS fighters opening fire on the attack helicopters as they circled around for another pass. Anything that looked like a threat died. The Vipers ripped apart military vehicles and technicals with ruthlessly efficiency. The light IFVs took Hellfire missiles and exploded before the MRAPs were obliterated with APKWS. Technicals ate rockets and cannon fire. A truck full of farming equipment that looked vaguely like an AA gun was shredded by a burst of 20mm rounds from the lead Viper's rotary cannon.

The gunships left quickly, but the IS fighters had no respite. A platoon of M1A1 Abrams tanks were already rolling toward them, guns ready to fire. A few of the remaining technicals, along with a BMP that had somehow escaped destruction, turned and rushed toward the new threat. They opened fire with everything they had, but the machine guns they had were useless against the American tanks. A stray RPG round exploded harmlessly against the lead tank.

Newer anti-tank missiles might have slowed the advance, but the Marines did not wait to see what IS had. They returned fire as soon as their guns were lined up. Hypersonic sabot rounds made of depleted uranium tore through the armed trucks as if they were paper. Machine gun fire cut down any stragglers or survivors.

After destroying the technicals, the tanks continued toward the convoy, taking aim at anything that looked to be a threat. A militant threw the cover off his truck, revealing a machine gun. He died seconds later to a burst of .50 calibre machine gun fire. A white van broke off and headed straight toward the tanks. It didn't make it far before being blown apart but a high-explosive multi-purpose shell.

The convoy was now a loose collection of vehicles trying to run wherever they could. But there was nowhere to go. A group of LAV-25 infantry fighting vehicles moved in from the other side to surround them, and a pair of a attack helicopters buzzed overhead as several dozen humvees raced in behind them. Several trucks attempted to head south again, but stopped in their tracks after a burst of cannon fire exploded in front of them.

"On the ground! Hands where I can see them!" Lieutenant Perelli shouted, jumping out of his humvee with weapon raised.

Private Tate was next. He raised his rifle as he had been trained, pointing it toward the mass of people that looked like civilians but could be combatants in disguise. He waved the weapon and shouted, "On the ground! Hands in the air!"

One of the men started reaching for something under his jacket that glinted in the sunlight. Though he was inexperienced, Tate's reflexes did not fail him. He swung his M16 and pulled the trigger three times, dropping the man "I just fucking shot that guy!"

"Why the fuck did you do that?" the Lieutenant shouted. He repeated to the crowds. "On the fucking ground!"

"I thought I saw a gun!" Tate protested. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant!"

Perelli glanced over. There was something metallic in the man's hands. "Could have been a gun. Our RoE says be careful, you were careful."

He didn't really have a response for that. "Sir."

The ragged man bleeding out on the ground gave the rest of the group pause. A few words were exchanged in Arabic, and the refugees laid on the ground and raised their hands in the air.

"So, how _do_ we tell who's a civilian?" Lance Corporal Reeves asked from behind him.

"You see a gun, they're not a civvie," Perelli answered. "Welcome to Islamic State."

The first few moments after meeting the convoy were extremely intense, but after that, it became surprisingly boring for the Marines. They had to process the civilians and surrendered fighters, which was more boring and frustrating than dangerous. The closest thing they had to action was a suicide bomber scare that turned out to be nothing but a plumber and his equipment.

Needless to say, the Marines of Perelli's platoon were happy to finish with the job and climb into their cramped, dirty vehicles once again.

"I wonder what they're going to do with all the refugees," a young Marine asked from his position in the turret ring of the humvee. "They're going to resettle them, aren't they?"

Lance Corporal Reeves laughed. "Do you know anything about the migrant crisis at all, Steve?"

"That's not my name." His protests fell upon deaf ears. "And I don't really follow what you're saying."

"So, what now?" Private Tate asked from the back of the vehicle.

"Onward to Raqqa, Private," Lieutenant Perelli answered, climbing into the vehicle and shutting the door. "Armored is going in first, but we're going to run into Grimm. They look scary, but they'll die to bullets... although bigger is better."

"That's what she said," Reeves muttered, starting the engine.

"Am I supposed to be reassured by that, sir?" their gunner asked.

"That Mark Ninteen will shred anything Ursa-sized or smaller," Perelli answered. "Anything bigger than that, we call in support."

"Yes, sir."

"Hey, I wonder how the Atlesians are doing," Tate mentioned.

"You wonder how the guys with superpowers and giant floating battleships are doing," Reeves mocked as he hit the accelerator. "They're like fucking SHIELD. I'm sure they're having no problem at all."

* * *

To be honest, I had no idea how I wanted to do this chapter when I started. For weeks I threw around ideas and nothing stuck. Eventually I settled on the format you see here, which may not be perfect but I feel it works. Once I got the ball rolling it came together pretty fast.


	11. Intervention III

**Intervention III**

 _Remnant, near the Raqqa portal_

General Lili Rook stood at the front of the _Sunrise Point_ 's bridge, watching as the fleet advanced steadily toward the portals in the fading light of the evening. The Grimm concentrations were heavy, and they were making slow progress cutting through it. They'd been through several engagements now. Casualties were light and none of her ships had suffered serious damage, but they were burning through ammo a little faster than she would have liked.

She would be lying if she said she wasn't concerned about what lie on the other side. The Earthers had given her a decent amount of intelligence on the region of their world they were headed toward. She could scarcely believe some of it. The so-called Islamic State made the worst crimes committed by the White Fang seem like nothing and brought to mind unpleasant stories from the Great War. She had the best fighting force in the world, and in theory she could wipe the floor with them. Her concern was how that theory would translate into practice when they'd never fought an enemy like IS or even trained for it.

But for the time being, her main concern was the Grimm.

"Captain, radar contact!" the sensor officer shouted, breaking the relative calm on the airship's bridge. "Suspect heavy Grimm concentration at bearing two-five, turned toward us and closing fast!"

Known on Earth only by its reporting name _Globe Top_ , the _Sunrise Point_ 's radar was a rotating set concealed by a dome atop its command tower. It was an L-band 2D search radar, similar in concept to those employed by Terran ships prior to the arrival of phased arrays. However, it used much more modern solid-state electronics, with all-digital data processing. It was a very efficient set with long range, but with a limited ability to pick up small or stealthy targets. For its intended purpose, that did not matter.

"Battle stations," General Lili Rook ordered immediately.

"Battle stations, battle stations, all hands to battle stations," the first officer announced. "This is not a drill. Airborne Grimm inbound to our position."

"Director status?" the General enquired.

The fire control officer answered, "All fire control directors manned and ready, batteries coming online and preparing to fire now."

The _Sunrise Point_ was equipped with a complex fire-control system, the latest to come out of Atlas. Its formidable armament of 76 rapid-fire anti-air guns was divided into six batteries- one on each side of the bow, one on each side amidships, and dorsal and ventral at the stern. Each battery had its own director, which received data and orders from the bridge and could control up to the entire battery of guns. The guns could also be controlled manually from a control station inside each twin mount, receiving targeting cues from the battery director if available.

Some of the newer ships had missile batteries, but the _Sunrise Point_ had never been fitted. Still, they were a heavily armed, powerful warship, and they could handle the flock of Nevermore even without the pair of _Azurit_ -class cruisers spinning up their own batteries. As a black swarm appeared in the sky before them, General Rook ordered confidently, "Destroy all inbound Grimm, fire at will."

Petty Officer Birk Kolur tensed inside his gun mount. He sat behind and between the large anti-air guns, with their large magazines under his seat. His right hand gripped a joystick that aimed the guns, while his left hung above a small control panel. In front of him was a computerized holographic sight. Though he could see Nevermores flying fiercely toward them, he did not yet have clearance from the director to fire. Kolur pressed a button, loading and arming his guns, but held his fire.

"All gunners, open fire!" a voice ordered from his headset seconds later. At the same time, an indicator on his sight blinked, indicating that he was in control and to slew his turret to a certain quadrant and fire at will.

Kolur wasted no time, jerking the stick and slewing the guns around as he had done a hundred times before. He lined up the sight with a bird heading toward them and tracked it. In a split second the electronics in his gun mount had measured the range to target, correlated the data with the brief motion, and calculated a firing solution. A reticule appeared on his sight and he slewed the guns around to line up his crosshairs before pulling the trigger.

Anti-air gunner was a dangerous and underappreciated job, but for some it could be quite the adrenaline rush. The ball turret shook violently as the report of the guns echoed through it, tongues of flame erupting from the powerful cannons. Spent casings were ejected into the bottom of the turret and out the back as Dust-impregnated rounds lanced toward their target. Several of them hit, ripping the Nevermore apart as if it were made of paper.

Another indicator appeared on the gunsight and Petty Officer Kolur swung his guns around again, targeting a slightly smaller Nevermore and knocking it out of the sky. The _Sunrise Point_ lit up with bursts of flame as dozens of other gunners did the same, shredding their targets with deadly efficiency. The flock of dark birds thinned quickly. A few Nevermores manage to reach their target, only to find that their beaks and talons did little the thick armour of the aerial behemoth. When they swept into the sky for another run, they were ruthlessly torn apart.

"Directors report all targets destroyed," the first officer reported. "No more inbound contacts on radar. No damage reports."

"Acknowledged," General Rook replied icily.

"Shall we secure from battle stations, ma'am?" he asked calmly. Though many of the crew were veterans, this had been his first close encounter with the Grimm in years and his calm was largely a facade.

"Maintain battle stations," Rook ordered. "There are more where those came from."

"Yes, ma'am."

She turned to the comm officer. "Any word from our scouting party?"

"Nothing new, ma'am. Last check in was ten minutes ago, next is twenty minutes from now."

The General nodded. Slow, steady progress was better than no progress at all.

* * *

"Let's kill it."

Specialist Gray Firther sighed inwardly. He met his partner's gleeful gaze with a stark one. "That's a Goliath. We need to call this in."

Though they were around the same age and held the exact same rank, Gray and his partner, Gláucia Wiater, could not be more different. He was a traditionalist at heart, from a staunchly military family that dated back to before the war. Gláucia changed her story every time, each more outlandish than the last. While he was strictly by-the book, she preferred to think outside the box. He held a deep respect for authority, she flaunted it. He prided himself on keeping his white-and-grey uniform immaculate even during operations, while she had cut off both her sleeves and half her jacket.

Somehow, they managed to make one of the most promising teams in Atlas despite constantly being at each others' throats.

"It's only a _baby_ Goliath!" Gláucia pointed out. Indeed, the Goliath was certainly on the small side as far as the giant beasts came. While the largest Goliaths towered above forests, the one stomping down the valley toward the mirror-like portal in the distance was perhaps the size of a small cottage or large cargo truck.

"A _baby Goliath_?" If it weren't for the constant threat of Grimm, he would have shouted it. Instead, it came out as a tense whisper.

"We're third-rank Specialists of Atlas. This is well within our ability to handle, at least according to _the book_ ," she pointed out. Her weapon was already in her hands. A hybrid shotgun and warhammer, she currently had it in the latter form.

"I really don't want to agree with you," Gray capitulated. He reluctantly drew Fenris, a heavy sharply-pointed polearm that could transform into a grenade launcher.

"I'm sure you don't." Gláucia leapt into action, briefly activating her semblance to boost her into the air on a gust of wind. It was a difficult power to control, and somewhat unpredictable, but she was used to that. As she came down, she transformed her weapon into shotgun form and fired, propelling her back into the air at a more favourable angle.

The Goliath turned to face her, swinging its dangerous tusks toward the nimble Specialist. She dodged to the right and the beast turned to track her, leaving its lightly armoured flanks open. Though he was slower, his partner's actions gave Gray time to close the distance. He swung Fenris, channelling his own semblance and unleashing a burst of freezing cold that stuck the beast's foot to the ground when it hit.

Even a young Goliath was a powerful, fearsome creature, and it would not take long for it to unstick its foot. The Specialists did not waste their opportunity. Gláucia nimbly dodged under the enraged Goliath's swinging trunk and blasted away at its underside with her shotgun-warhammer. Gray leaped upward, driving his spear into the side of the beast and using it as a lever to swing himself onto its back. He drove his spear in again, planting himself for what he knew was coming.

The Goliath bucked and swerved, trying to throw the Specialist off its back. Gláucia took advantage of the distraction, charging her weapon with Aura as she transformed it back into warhammer mode. With a mighty cry, she swung it into the Goliath's skull plate, cracking it nearly in half.

No words were exchanged, but Gray knew exactly what to do. He jumped off the Goliath, his weapon in grenade launcher mode before he hit the ground. He lined up his sights, focused his Aura, and fired, pumping six canisters of freeze Dust into the beast's skull plate. It roared as the bone froze solid, blinding and weighing down the creature.

Another hit from Gláucia's warhammer shattered the plate in an impressive explosion of ice and bone shards, leaving the best vulnerable. The two Specialists wasted no time, delivering several quick strikes to the exposed flesh underneath in quick succession. Deep black fluid, the closest thing a Grimm had to blood, splattered around them. The Goliath let out one last, desperate cry before collapsing to the ground.

"I told you it'd be easy," Gláucia said to her partner, voice cocky. Black smoke wafted from the corpse as it began to dissipate.

Gray didn't answer, instead motioning to the horizon as he reloaded his weapon, "Looks like we brought the horde."

They readied themselves as a gathering of Grimm approached. It was difficult to tell because of the distance, but they could make out a Goliath and a few Ursa Major among the smaller Grimm. A pair of Giant Nevermore, flanked by their more ordinary cousins, hovered above.

To their right, another flock approached rapidly, this one steel gray. The two Specialists watched as the Atlesian fleet opened fire, lighting up the sky with a torrent of muzzle flashes and tracer rounds from their cannons. The sounds hit a second later, a cacophony of noise barely abated by the distance.

Explosions appeared among the Grimm as the smaller craft tangled, ripping apart the beasts with precisely aimed fire. It almost appeared as a dance of beast versus machine. Some of the dropships broke off, diving toward the ground to drop troops and rake the Grimm with cannon fire. The heavy bombardment guns of the _Sunrise Point_ opened up on the Goliath, tearing it apart as only the best Hunters in the world could.

Gláucia reacted to the impressive display of firepower with nothing but disappointment. "Aww."

* * *

 _Raqqa, Syria_

In General Lili Rook's mind, the pictures had not done Raqqa justice, and not in a good way.

The city was drab and dirty, with brown and gray tones dominating the landscape. The ground beneath her feet was a sort of sandy dirt that was gritty and unpleasant beneath her boots. Many of the buildings had been blown apart in the past, leaving piles of messy rubble in their wake. Bloody corpses lay on the ground among destroyed vehicles and tattered black flags. She knew the Grimm were still around and suspected that there were a few armed Terran stragglers, too. The place stank of death and despair, and the sounds of fighting echoed through the streets.

In the Atlesian military, a good leader led from the front, and she was among the first to step foot on Earth. They were far from careless, though. The two Specialists from the scouting force flanked her, along with a full squad of troops reinforced by a dozen AK-200s and a pair of Paladin mechs. A trio of dropships provided overwatch. They were all ready to fight, aware that an attack could come at a moment's notice.

Keeping one hand by the heavy pistol tucked into her jacket, the General removed a small black device from her pocket with the other. Both the radio and the protocol she was supposed to use with it were foreign to her, but she managed. "Overlord, Titan Actual. We are on the ground in Raqqa, over."

"Titan, Overlord. We read you five by five and we have you on ISR. Welcome to Earth."

An Ursa rounded the corner ahead of them, the young beast seeing the group of soldiers as an enticing target. In response, the troops readied their weapons. Before they could do anything, the ground exploded under the Grimm, splattering the buildings around with deep black bits. They quickly turned to smoke that mixed with the dust cloud to form a filthy mix of black and brown.

"What was _that_?" Specialist Gláucia Wiater exclaimed.

"It's called an IED- improvised explosive device," General Lili Rook told her, voice level. "You read the briefing, did you not, Specialist?"

"I did, but-"

"Our rules don't apply here, Specialist," she reminded, understanding where she was coming from.

"Yes, ma'am."

The radio in Rook's hand buzzed again. "Titan, Overlord. Be advised, we have detected significant concentrations of Grimm, militants, and suspected IEDs in your sector. Recommend you head north from your current position."

Her reply was terse. "Overlord, Titan Actual. Acknowledged."

Specialist Gray turned to the General, most of the scale above him in rank, and said frankly, "Ma'am, with all due respect, I hate this place."

* * *

I think this might be the first fic where Atlas goes up against ISIS. Also, I think Sunrise Point is an Intel codename.

I've seen some reviews complaining that this fic leans too heavily in favour of Earth and some reviews complaining that it leans too heavily in favour of Remannt. With the Emergence series, I've always striven to keep things balanced, with both sides having advantages and disadvantages in different areas. The story is not about one side rolling over the other but rather about how they meet and interact. Still, it's very difficult to strike a balance and I understand where your concerns come from.


	12. Festival I

**F** **estival I**

Janice Colwood flexed her fingers around the microphone in her hand as the camera crew made last minute preparations for their broadcast. A seasoned journalist, her current assignment nonetheless had her excited like a young, naive reporter again.

Broadcasting from what was literally another world was a technically challenging ordeal, and they had set up a room of equipment to make it possible. Most of it was fairly standard. They several high-definition cameras, a large video switcher, and a plethora of audio equipment. Some of it, like the power supplies and "magic box", weren't. Much of it wasn't in use yet, but it would be over the course of the event.

Equipment wasn't what was on Janice Colwood's mind. She was among the few from Earth who had stepped foot on this world, and would be only the second to actually broadcast from it. The Vytal Festival was a big event for Remnant, and an even bigger one for the seven billion Terrans who had never seen it before. She'd seen some incredible things already, and was eager to share them with the world.

"Nervous?" the cameraman asked. "Excited?"

"Beyond belief," Janice admitted, answering both questions.

"Okay, we've got a green light to broadcast," a deep-voiced man called, all business. "On in three... two... one."

Janice turned to the camera, face carefully controlled. "Good evening, Earth. I'm Janice Colwood broadcasting live from Amity Colosseum..."

* * *

As was usual custom for a Thursday afternoon, Team RWBY had staked out a spot in the corner of Beacon's capacious library. Exams were still far enough aware to ignore, but they'd been given several assignments that largely consisted of tedious paper writing.

"Ugh, this is so boring," Ruby complained, dramatically flipping shut the book in front of her. "Why do we have to write this stupid history essay, anyway?"

"Because the Vytal Accords were crucial to the establishment of the modern world order," Weiss recited from beside her.

"I know that," her partner said, rolling her eyes.

"Then you shouldn't have any trouble writing it."

The crimsonette didn't get a chance to reply. A set of familiar faces emerged from between the stacks, one of them waving wildly even from the short distance.

"Hey, guys," Jaune greeted. "Mind if we join you?"

"No, of course not, sure," Ruby answered cheerfully.

The blonde took a seat at the table. Pyrrha sat down beside him, moving her chair as close as possible. Ren sat down, Nora sat down on top of him, Ren sighed quietly, and Nora moved to a position on top of the table.

"How are you doing on the physics assignment?" Pyrrha asked.

"Ugh. I keep writing Δv/t instead of v~|t ," Weiss muttered.

"Really? You're still doing that?" Blake said, a tone of mocking in her voice.

"It's the first notation I really learned," she replied seriously.

Nora asked suddenly, "So, Vytal Festival?"

Confused, Weiss half-asked, "...yes?"

"I think Nora is asking if you intend to compete in the Vytal Festival," Ren explained.

"You know, we spent a lot of time thinking about it," Ruby answered. "But we're _really_ out of practice, and we have a ton of work to catch up on. So that's a maybe next year."

"Aww," Nora whined, disappointed.

"I think that's a reasonable decision to make," Pyrrha reasoned. "However, we've decided to compete in the tournament this year."

Jaune scratched his neck. "I don't think we actually have a good chance of winning, though."

"Come on, you guys will do great!" Ruby said, flashing them

"Well, we're gonna give it our best shot!" Jaune replied with a nervous laugh.

"I think it'll be a good experience even if you don't get very far," Yang told them.

"We we going to try to catch some of the games," Ruby mentioned. "But since you're competing we'll be sure to get up there and watch your matches!"

"Thanks," Pyrrha said.

Jaune changed topics. "So, uh, anyone have any idea about that Vytal Accord thingy in the history assignment?"

* * *

Late in the evening, two very influential men stood on one of Beacon's prominent balconies. It was a calm, clear night, and from the balcony they had an excellent view of Amity Colosseum and the edge of Vale beyond. It was as beautiful a view as could be had, and yet their minds were far from calm.

"Speak your mind, James," Headmaster Ozpin prodded.

General James Ironwood hesitated for a moment before speaking up. "I'm worried about the Festival, Oz."

The Headmaster raised an eyebrow. "You're worried about a celebration of peace?"

"There are a lot of people who think we're getting too close with the Terrans, too fast," Ironwood mentioned, leaning over the railing.

"They're not wrong to have those doubts," Ozpin reminded the general.

"I know," he acknowledged. "The real problem isn't the ones who'll badmouth or boycott the event. It's the ones who'll try to do something about it. And that's _on top_ of everyone else who'd like to see the Festival fall."

"These threats have always been present, and yet the Festival has always gone on," Ozpin assured. "No matter how the Grimm are acting or what humanity is doing, the Festival has gone on every second year since its inception eighty years ago."

"These are tumultuous times," Ironwood stated.

"They are, indeed," Ozpin agreed. "We must remain vigilant and ensure that turmoil does not become disaster. It is what we must do and it is all we can do."

* * *

Ambassador Joseph Watts struggled to hold down his expensive dinner as the CH-148 Cyclone clawed its way through the air. Their destination literally floated thousands of feet above the ground, and the only way to get there was by a helicopter or VTOL transport. He wished they'd managed to secure a local shuttle. Some of the other officials aboard the aircraft were coping better, some worse.

"First time in a helicopter, sir?" the crew chief asked from her position by the door. She was, of course, totally unfazed. A rifle was slung across her chest, the only form of protection the helicopter had after leaving its AH-64 escort behind near Beacon. With Atlesian and Valic security forces buzzing around, they were reasonably confident that the area was safe.

"Actually, it isn't," he replied with a hint of embarrassment. Watts had been with the State Department for years and several of his assignments had involved helicopter rides, including one harrowing trip through the mountains of Afghanistan on an Army chopper. He'd never been able to get used to the infernal machines.

The crew chief turned to glance through the cockpit window. "Well, sir, we're almost there. I guarantee it will be worth the ride."

"Vale Control, Visitor One requesting an approach vector to Amity Colosseum," the copilot communicated over the radio.

"Copy that, Visitor One," came the reply. "Turn one-three-zero for a direct approach, you are cleared to land on Pad 6."

"Vale Control, Visitor One copy. Turn one-three-zero, cleared to land on Pad 6."

The pilot gently banked the helicopter and pulled up on the collective to line them up with the pad ahead. The Colosseum was an incredible piece of engineering, but he did not have time to admire the scenery. His trained eyes locked on to the octagonal pad with a large 6 on it before returning to scanning the skies for potential dangers. A Bullhead in Royal Vale Army markings was taking off from Pad 7, and a public shuttle was on approach a berth beside them. They had plenty of separation, but he might have to deal with some turbulence.

In the back, Ambassador Watts gripped his hard seat as the aircraft seemed to fall out from under him. For him, the approach was the most harrowing part of any flight. During cruise, things were nice and steady, and landings he'd never really had trouble with. But the approach he found to be the most uncomfortable and seemingly the most dangerous.

Fortunately, everything went smoothly. There was a bit of turbulence as the pilot had expected. He slowed the helicopter into a hover and gently dropped down onto the pad with a dull thud.

"Vale Control, Visitor One landed at Amity Colosseum, Pad 6," the copilot informed, though under the Remnan ATC system it was not a necessary call.

The crew chief opened the door, taking a brief peek before motioning for the embarked party to leave. Watts did not hesitate, and he was third out the door.

Outside, the landing pad stood on a massive ring cantilevered out past the stadium body. The outer part of the ring was devoted to landing pads and shuttle berths, while the inner section was a huge open walkway already busy with guests. To one side loomed the monolith that was Amity Colosseum, to the other side was an incredible view over Beacon and the forest beyond. A sturdy railing sat between them and the edge, and the wind was noticeable but not harsh.

The British Ambassador summed up their thoughts. "Well, this is quite nice."

A sharply- if brightly- dressed man strode out to meet them. He announced, "I'm Kishan Vasu, special envoy of Vale. On behalf of the Kingdoms of Remnant, welcome to the 40th annual Vytal Festival."

* * *

Even earlier than promised.

The design of Amity Stadium is _slightly_ different from canon. I wrote it making some small assumptions (marked landing pads, safety railings and security barriers) before actually checking the wiki. At this point we've gone totally AU anyway.

If you don't see your review come up right away, just wait a few days. There's a moderation queue of sorts, and sometimes they just get stuck for no reason.

Siena's trial and Torchwick's extradition were intended to have an arc to themselves, however it's likely I won't have time to write it. It'll either be an Aside (or pair of Asides) or end up rolled into the Defanged arc.


	13. Intervention IV

**Intervention IV**

 _Outside Raqqa, Syria_

"Large concentrations of Grimm are approaching from the southeast along the river! Hundreds of smaller Grimm, but not a lot of bird- my god, there is a Goliath among them! They must have circled around!"

General-Colonel Alexei Simonov inwardly flinched when he heard the report. They were already running behind, having yet to cross the Euphrates, and that was the last thing he wanted to hear. He was confident that his powerful armoured forces would be able to deal with the smaller Grimm, but the Goliath was a huge problem. Quickly glancing at his map, the general proceeded to order a strike carried out against the target. An Air Force major relayed the order, assigning an Su-34 strike fighter to the mission.

Powered by a pair of Saturn AL-31FM1 afterburning turbofans, the Su-34 strike fighter- known to the West by its NATO reporting name "Fullback"- screamed through the air. A derivative of the famed Su-27 "Flanker" fighter, it was equipped with a large, armoured cockpit and a fire control system designed for ground attack missions. The Su-34 retained most of the speed and manoeuvrability of the Flanker as well as the ability to carry air-to-air missiles.

Under its wings was a pair of KAB-1500LG-Pr-E laser-guided bombs. A 1500 kilogram class bomb, it was comparable in size to the GBU-28 Paveway bunker buster employed by the United States during Desert Storm. Unlike the pipe-like Paveway, the Russian bomb used a thick-cased subcalibre warhead buried in the middle of the bomb. Its gyro-stabilized head tracked a laser dot projected from a targeting pod on the launching aircraft or another platform with a circular error probable of 4 to 7 metres.

Upon receiving orders from his superiors, the pilot brought the aircraft around for a bombing run. The navigator/weapons officers beside him slewed the optical targeting system onto the gigantic Grimm and locked in the target. The pilot adjusted his course slightly to align with the course track given by the targeting computer. Once they reached the release point, the bombs were dropped automatically, the aircraft juddering noticeably with the lost weight.

The heavy bombs reached terminal velocity quickly, small fins on their tail sections deflecting back and forth to keep it on target during their few seconds of flight. The first hit the Goliath nearly dead centre on its back, punching through the outer hide, shattering what passed for a spinal column, and exploding deep inside the monster. The second hit only a metre away, ripped through the already injured monster and exploded inside. Jet black viscera erupted from the entry hole and the beast appeared to swell up before collapsing to the ground and beginning to dissipate into a smoky haze.

The Syrian forces immediately erupted into raucous cheering mixed with celebratory gunfire. The Russians were more reserved, but many still expressed their exhilaration at seeing the beast fall. They readied their weapons for the rest of the swarm, now confident they could stop it in its tracks.

"Fuck yes!" Lance Corporal Reeves shouted from behind the wheel of his Humvee. Around him, the gathering of Marines cheered and shouted similar sentiments.

"Goddamn Ruskies," Lieutenant Perelli breathed, watching the destruction. With some reluctance, he ordered his men, "Stay alert, the city is still not secure. That's one down, who knows how many to go."

On the other side of the city, the Atlesians, too, witnessed the destruction. Unlike the Terrans, their reaction was a mixture of awe, disappointment, approval and disapproval. Did they really just take down a Goliath with two measly bombs and not skilled fighters or heavy firepower?

"Are you kidding me?" Specialist Firther shouted to his companion. She shrugged in response.

"Go in fast and strike hard, Specialist," General Rook interrupted. "That's how the Terrans do it. Watch and learn, but don't blindly follow."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

 _Raqqa, Syria_

"Overlord, Lancer One-Actual, we are at the rendezvous point, moving to secure," Lieutenant Perelli reported over the radio. He turned to the Marines in the humvee beside him. "Showtime, Marines."

The rendezvous point was a relatively open area toward the western part of the city, near where several major highways converged. The other vehicles moved to cover the area, Marines dismounting and spreading out as they entered what might have once been a town square. The sounds of battle echoed through the city and a wide variety of aircraft boomed and zoomed above them.

As soon as they arrived, a large, gorilla-like monster emerged from a rubble-filled street to the east. Rifles were raised and vehicle mounted-weapons slewed toward it. Before they could open fire, there was a pair of loud gunshots and the beast fell dead, quickly dissipating in the disturbing way Grimm tended to do.

A woman wearing the stars of an Atlesian general emerged from the alley, holstering a large pistol beneath her jacket. Behind her was a pair of Atlesian soldiers with elaborate weapons held at the ready, one of them wearing a heavily modified uniform. Flanking them was an Atlesian Paladin, and several squads of armoured soldiers moved in behind them. A pair of gunships zipped by overhead.

Someone muttered, "Fuck yeah, Atlas."

"Sir, is it normal for Atlesian general officers to lead the tip of the spear?" a Corporal asked the Lieutenant.

He nodded. "As crazy as it sounds, from what I've heard it is."

"Man, if I had the chance I would totally hit that," Private Tate said to the Marines around him.

Reeves laughed. "Court-martial aside, she'd probably fucking rip your limbs off or something."

"Stow it," Sergeant Dawson growled.

The junior Marines quickly acknowledged with a, "Yes, Sergeant."

From the other side of the square, the General stepped forward. "General Lili Rook, Atlas."

Their leader strode out to meet her and answered crisply, "Lieutenant Martin Perelli, United States Marine Corps."

"Are you the ranking officer here?" she inquired.

"I am," Lieutenant Perelli answered. "I'll admit I wasn't expecting to meet you in person, General. You're probably going to want to talk to my superiors. I'll send word that we've linked up."

She nodded. "Lead the way, Lieutenant."

The Marine Lieutenant lead her back to his vehicle and picked up the radio. He called, "Overlord, Lancer One-Actual, we have made contact with Titan Actual and are holding at the rendezvous point."

"Overlord acknowledge, Lancer. Additional reinforcements are on their way," buzzed the reply. "Be advised, Russian forces will be at your position within the hour. General Simonov reports that his forces are making fast progress into the city."

 _Probably means they're shooting anything that moves_. "Understood, sir."

"Was that the Russian/Syrian force?" General Rook asked pointedly.

"Yes, ma'am, they'll be here within the hour, provided nothing holds them up."

"Quite the party," the General quipped.

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

 _After days of fighting, coalition forces have taken the former capital of the so-called Islamic State. A defensive line has been formed facing the portal and patrols within the city continue. For the most part, the city is clear of opposition, human and Grimm._

 _It is time for the arduous process of locating and evacuating civilians, some who may in fact be IS fighters in disguise. In addition, the city is believed to be booby-trapped with hundreds of improvised explosive devices. Several have been discovered already, though coalition spokespersons would not provide details._

 _The battle is over, but the future of the the city and surrounding territory remains an open question. Kathleen Goodman, reporting from Raqqa._

* * *

A base camp of sorts had been hastily assembled in an open area toward the western half of the city. It was mostly tents, with a few trailers and converted containers among them. Armoured vehicles guarded the entrances, and sandbag barriers were being erected to form makeshift walls. The atmosphere inside the base was odd. Enlisted soldiers met and traded stories and goods, sometimes across language barriers, as their officers tried to stop them from giving away too many perceived secrets.

The female Atlesian Specialist with the exotic riflehammer and cut up uniform was completely out of place in enlisted Marines' mess tent. But after being kicked out of the officer's trailer, it was the only place with a TV that she knew of. The Marines were all horndogs with deployment goggles, so there were no complaints when she simply waltzed in and sat down.

Lance Corporal Reeves laughed loudly at the news broadcast. "So, that's it. Mission accomplished."

"I thought she just said the mission was not accomplished?" the Specialist asked.

He laughed again. "No, like, 2003 Mission Accomplished."

"She's from another planet, she has no idea what you're talking about," Private Tate reminded him.

"Well, basically-"

"Excuse me," a firm voice called from the entrance of the tent. An Atlesian Specialist stood by the entrance. His uniform was in much better shape, and his slate hair was somehow neat and tidy. His weapon, a kind of polearm with a large barrel, was visible on his back.

Reeves blurted out, "Is that your boyfriend?"

The new arrival ignored him. "Gláucia, what are you doing here?"

"How do you spell that?" someone asked, to the person beside him but loud enough for the whole tent to hear.

"They have TV," she explained lamely.

"Damn right we have TV," a Marine commented loudly from the other side of the room.

"What is TV and why are you doing it?" the other Specialist asked, exasperated.

"It's like, video broadcasts. Watch and learn. I'm doing exactly what we were ordered to do." It was technically true, even if her actual motivation had been that she was exceptionally bored and Terrans seemed to be drawn to it.

"Well, the General wanted you to know that we're headed back to the front tomorrow," he told her. "If you need me, I'll be talking with some of the squad leaders in that weird metal box."

Ignoring the slight, she nodded. "Sure."

"Was that your boyfriend?" Reeves repeated. "Cause if he is, _damn_."

She shook her head. "Specialist Firther is my partner. My _combat_ partner and _only_ my combat partner."

"How does he keep his hair like that, anyway?" another Lance Corporal asked. "I mean, I can't even get mine to sit straight."

"What happened in 2003?" Gláucia prodded seriously. She snapped her fingers. "Oh, that was the War of Terror, right?"

"War _on_ Terror, at least officially," Reeves corrected. "We rolled in, kicked Saddam's ass, and then the President came out and did this big Mission Accomplished speech on a carrier."

"That was a quick war?" From what she'd heard, most major wars on Earth lasted longer than a year.

He laughed. "We didn't leave until _2011_. Then the whole country went to shit a few years later."

"Oh."

"News lady is right. The war's not over, Specialist. Not by a long shot."

* * *

A bit messy, but I think it's a decent ending to an odd arc anyway. Festival will be returning shortly and will likely be the last arc set in 2015. I haven't seen the Volume 4 premiere, but I have seen the WoR episodes and it's unlikely most of it will be incorporated into the Emergence verse.

For those who were wondering, v~|t is Remnan notation for Δv/t, and the Vytal Festival should be biannual.


	14. Festival II

**F** **estival** **II**

"Three..."

"Half forest, half desert, that works for us," Lie Ren observed calmly. He glanced around, observing their opponents, his teammates, and the terrain.

"Two..."

"Team NDGO is a very talented team," Pyrrha Nikos mentioned, moving into a fighting stance. "And a crowd favourite."

"One..."

"We've got this!" Nora Valkyrie exclaimed. She tossed Magnhild between her hands excitedly.

"Begin!"

"Come on, guys!" Jaune Arc shouted, raising his sword before charging forward. His team followed, breaking into a run with weapons raised.

Their opponents did not rush out to meet them. Instead, Nebula signalled her teammate. With a wave of her arm, Dew raised a gust of wind that picked up the sand of the desert beneath them, whipping it into a blinding torrent. In seconds, visibility was cut from _clear across the arena_ to _barely a metre in front of you_.

Jaune continued forward, stumbling through the maelstrom. He knew his teammates were around him and they had to be across the arena by now, but he could barely see. Seeing a feminine shape ahead, he called, "Pyrrha?"

The response came as a high-pitched battle cry and an expertly swung sword. It hit square on, knocking him back and taking out a chunk of his Aura. Jaune crouched down into a combat pose, not perfect but servicable.

"You're not Pyrrha," he stated obviously, raising his shield in a clumsy block. He gritted his teeth and swung with his own sword. He'd been practising his swordsmanship as much as he could in the run-up to the tournament, and he was eager to show what he could do.

Nora barely even noticed the sandstorm and continued to charge forward toward her target. Octavia raised her wavy-edged sword and slashed in the air, sending a wave of fire toward the charging girl. Nora quickly dove out of the way, transforming Magnhild into its grenade launcher form and sending a barrage of grenades in response.

The two circled each other, waiting for an opening. Nora transformed Magnhild back into its hammer form, flipping it around and grinning broadly. Octavia flipped her weapon around in her hand, narrowing her eyes at her opponent. Then they charged toward each other once again.

Up close, Nora was at a disadvantage and she knew it. Her hammer was long, slow, and heavy compared to Octavia's short and quick blade. She struggled to parry her opponent's blows, taking several and failing to land any of her own.

But that was never Nora's plan. To the surprise of her opponent, she retreated with an elaborate backflip. She smirked and brought her hammer down between them, channelling as much Aura as she could into the weapon. The massive force of the explosion sent both of them flying. Octavia slammed painfully into the arena barrier and Nora landed on the other side of the arena floor.

She flashed the crowd a grin and a thumbs-up as her beeping scroll informed her she was out of the match.

Ren managed to get the jump on his target. Once the sand had begun whipping up, he turned and ran for the treeline. His opponent seemed to have the same idea, but he made it first. As soon as he had her clearly in his sights, he opened fire, channelling his Aura into his weapon.

Most of the shots were wasted. Gwen Darcy spun on her feet, taking some of the bullets and causing many of them to miss. She flung out four throwing knives in quick succession. Ren dived to the ground and rolled out of the way. Before he could do anything, Gwen let loose with another flurry of knives, which exploded in bursts of colour on and around Ren.

The black-haired warrior shook off the impacts, weakened but not out of the fight. He raised StormFlower again, alternatively firing and blocking as his opponent continued her assault. She jumped forward, jabbing with the knives between her fingers. He blocked the first blow and took the second across his leg.

As the dust began to clear behind him, Ren noticed that there was something approaching rapidly from the other half of the arena. He pushed Gwen back with a flurry of strikes from StormFlower and pivoted to face the new threat. It was too late. A golden spear slammed into his sternum, knocking him to the ground. A rapid beeping from his scroll let him know that he was out of the fight.

Like Ren, Pyrrha had dashed toward the safety of the treeline as soon as the dust storm began, although she had headed for a different corner of the arena. She looked around, searching for an opponent, but could only make out the distant noises of battle.

She was perhaps the most skilled out of her team and she couldn't do anything, which irritated her to no end. The champion leaped up into a tree, using her javelin for leverage. Though the dust storm was clearing, she still couldn't make out Nora or Ren. She did see her partner battling a skilled violetta on the other side of the arena.

"Jaune!" Pyrrha called, waving.

"I have an idea!" Jaune shouted. While he was distracted, his opponent landed another blow.

Pyrrha leaped down and broke into a run, pushing apart vegetation as she hurried toward her partner. As soon as she broke through the treeline, a trio of knives slammed into her back, sending her stumbling forward. She crouched down and turned, firing several shots toward the treeline. She didn't get a chance to see if her rounds hit. Feeling a presence coming from the other direction, she spun and raised Akoúo̱.

Dew leaped into the air, crashing down on top of Pyrrha's shield spear-first. She bounced and rolled back into a battle stance, thrusting again with her spear. The redhead quickly parried with her own javelin, using her semblance to slightly push the spear out of the way.

The blonde spear wielder recovered quickly, spinning her spear and searching for an opening. To her frustration, every time she thought she had a clear shot she either missed or the redhead managed to bring her shield to bear in time.

Pyrrha was becoming overwhelmed, and her surprise and fear at the feeling only made it worse. While she was holding Dew at bay, she couldn't do the same against Gwen and her torrent of throwing knives. Two of them hit, breaking her concentration.

The Invincible Girl was vulnerable.

The two girls of Team NDGO pressed the attack, assaulting the champion with a flurry of knife slashes and spear thrust. Pyrrha couldn't keep up with both of them at once. When she deflected the blows of one, the other landed hers. She tried to open the distance, but her opponents were relentless.

She had no idea who landed the final blow, but before she knew it, her scroll was beeping and blinking red. She was out. The champion let out a cry of frustration before forcing a smile and congratulating opponents who were already gone.

Jaune was losing his fight. His swordsmanship had improved dramatically, and he had tremendous Aura reserves, but Nebula was a skilled fighter and he was slowly being worn down. His sword was heavy and he could feel his Aura waning as he struggled to parry Nebula's attacks. He'd barely managed to get in any of his own.

His eyes widened as he noticed another two girls making a beeline for his position. He hopped backward and raised his shield. When Nebula confidently attacked, he slammed it forward and swept her legs with Crocea Mors. The girl quickly recovered and landed an attack of his own before he hopped back again.

Then, suddenly, Nebula stepped back and sheathed her sword. The other two girls stopped in their tracks. Jaune almost launched his attack before realizing that his scroll was beeping. He was out.

It was over.

JNPR lost.

* * *

After the match, Team JNPR strolled out toward the public shuttles, their minds pervaded with mixed feelings. It had been quite the match, in more ways than one. Team RWBY had, of course, taken initiative (or at least their leader had), and were already outside waiting for them.

"Well, we tried," Jaune said to them. He smiled and shrugged. "It was a good match."

"So you're not disappointed?" Yang asked.

"No," Pyrrha answered quickly.

"Not even a little?" the blonde prodded. Her sister shot her a glare which she ignored.

"It was disappointing to be defeated in the first match," Pyrrha admitted quietly. She forced a smile. "But, given the circumstances, I think we performed well."

"Yeah, we did great!" Nora exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Lighten up, Pyrrha, I'm just kidding. You guys did great!" Yang said encouragingly. "Really. I read up on NDGO, and they're like, at the top of their class. And they've been training constantly."

"They did deserve the win," Pyrrha said.

Weiss could tell who the redhead was trying to convince. She said, "Pyrrha, just... fuck 'em."

"Weiss!" Ruby snapped.

"Excuse me?" Pyrrha asked, an edge to her voice.

"You're worried what's going to happen to the Invincible Girl now that she's been defeated," Weiss stated. "You're worried what people are going to think. Your actual friends are here, so fuck 'em."

Jaune put a hand on her shoulder. "She's right, you know."

Nora interrupted, "Who wants to get kettle corn?"

* * *

Janice Colwood's hands palms were sweaty beneath the news desk. They were moving at a fast pace and she struggled to keep up. The Vytal Festival was most like a sports event, which was something she had little experience covering. But she was a talented newscaster picked for a reason, so she did her job.

"The upcoming match is sure to be an exciting one. On one side we have Coco Adel and Velvet Scarlatina of Team CFVY, from Beacon Academy. Both appeared as characters on the animated web series RWBY, and we have confirmed through independent sources that they are second year students near the top of their class." They hadn't actually been able to confirm the facts for certain, but the pressure was on to put out the broadcasts. "Miss Adel's weapon is a combination handbag and minigun, while "

She continued, reading off the teleprompter, "Their opponents are Penny Polendina and Ciel Soleil from Atlas. Penny is unique among the competitors in this year's Vytal Festival in that she is not actually human, or in fact biological at all. She is an Atlesian prototype robot- an android- designed as the first synthetic capable of generating an Aura."

The Remnan advisor standing beside the mixing console gasped, quickly covering her mouth. While common- or at least commonly assumed- knowledge on Earth, it was still a closely-guarded military secret on Remnant. Either the Earthican reporter had just revealed a highly sensitive piece of information or she had no idea what was talking about. The Remnan was honestly more inclined to believe the latter.

Janice did not notice or care. "Ciel Soleil, unfortunately, we know little about. According to official sources, she is a first-year student at Atlas, comes from a military family, and scores well in standardized testing. We have not been able to secure any information on her fighting style or weapons."

"It's time to see what these very talented young men and women can do for real," the newscaster announced finally. "And, this time, to see what happens when man is pitted against machine."

On the director's signal, the production engineer cut to the arena cameras.

* * *

You get one fight per chapter because they're really hard to write. I'm quite unhappy with this one.

Because of real life busyness and a general desire to focus my energy elsewhere, I've decided to scope down The Remnan Exchange. I am planning for seven arcs after Festival at this point, which is a significant but not dramatic reduction. The arcs themselves might be shorter as well. Some have suggested that I draw TRX out instead, but my intent is to spend less time writing fanfiction period- whether that's tomorrow or not year. I know this is a disappointment, but bear in mind that this is a hobby that provides me with no net gain whatsoever.

As for wiping out Earth, no, that's not going to happen. It's never been what this fic was about.


	15. Festival III

**F** **estival** **II** **I**

"Remember, the whole world is watching. No pressure or anything." The director glanced at his technicians one last time before signalling the anchor. "We're rolling."

"It's been a very exciting time for all of us here, and the Vytal Festival is set to wrap up with one final very exciting event," Janice Colwood announced. "Tonight, for our final match to determine the champion of the Vytal Festival, we have Lance Sidabras versus Coco Adel."

"Roll the Lance clips," the director instructed, signalling the man behind the video switcher.

"Lance Sidabras is a fourth-year student hailing from Atlas," Janice read. Though her face was no longer being broadcast, she nonetheless kept her pose controlled. "Lance wields an extremely powerful combination pulse rifle and powered sword. His Semblance allows him to hover in the air, fly short distances, and manipulate wind against his foes. So far, Lance has defeated every challenger, and reportedly almost took home the championship two years ago."

The director signalled the switcher guy again, and he seamlessly cut to what essentially amount to a Coco Adel demo reel.

"Coco Adel is a second-year student of Beacon Academy here in Vale. An extremely talented fighter, she has defeated several more experienced opponents to make it this far. Sources say that this kind of upset is uncommon, but not unheard of," the reporter continued on cue. "Coco wields a chaingun that folds up into her purse, and has wielded this both as a ranged weapon and a melee weapon. Her Semblance remains unknown, a possible trump card up her sleeve."

The switcher cut back to the camera as Janice announced, "The final match will certainly be an intense one, and viewers all across Remnant and Earth will be tuning in to see it. Since the purpose of the Vytal Festival is to hone the world's fighters against the Grimm, we can fairly say that whatever happens in this match, everyone wins."

* * *

"So, you ready to give the world a show?" Coco asked over the top of her stylish sunglasses. She scanned the arena. Ice on his side, desert on hers.

Lance offered her a nod in response, but said nothing. He slightly adjusted his grip on his large bladed pulse rifle.

"I'll take that as a yes." She flicked her purse, and with a clanking of machinery it unfolded into an almost comically large gatling gun.

"Begin!"

As soon as the announcer finished the call, Lance leaped into the air, rapidly closing the distance to his opponent. Coco raised her gatling gun and opened fire. She managed to clip Lance with a stream of bullets before he shifted direction midair using a combination of his gun and his Semblance.

The stylish brunette whipped her gun around as Lance closed the distance. He fired his pulse rifle in a short burst, altering his course again and forcing Coco into a rolling dodge. They continued taking potshots at each other, expending hundreds of rounds for only a few hits before Lance abruptly shifted strategy.

He fired into the air and pulsed his Semblance again, sending him flying quickly toward the ground. Before he hit, he shifted his pulse rifle into its elaborate sword mode, driving it into the ice and spinning around it. He flew into the air again and repeated the manoeuvre, closing the distance with Coco and ignoring the few rounds she managed to get off.

He charged in sword-first, and Coco quickly raised her gun to block. Although it was a potent weapon, it was weak up close and she knew it. Of course, she had practised. As Lance brought his sword down toward her, she slammed her weapon forward, sending him stumbling backward. She managed to catch him with a burst of bullets before he recovered, rolling to the side and blocking with his sword.

Lance moved quickly and precisely, transforming his weapon and letting off a few rounds in Coco's direction to get her off guard before transforming it again and charging forward, slashing at her leg opposite her heavy weapon before she could react. She brought the weapon down on his head, but it was a glancing hit and he was already moving out of the way.

Coco gritted her teeth. She had to open the distance and she knew it. She activated her Semblance, feeling its intense energy course through her body. Then, suddenly, a hard metal object slammed into her and she lost her concentration, the power fading with it.

Lance spun the sword around again, zipping around for another strike. In the meantime, his opponent had recovered. She collapsed her weapon again, darting to the side as she waited for it to fold back into its much more compact form.

They closed the distance again. Coco feinted right before darting to the left at the last minute, and he went for it, moving to block. She kicked at Lance's exposed legs and swung her handbag-gun into his back. He pivoted pivoted with the impact and swiped with his sword, catching Coco's weapon by the strap and nearly wrenching it out of her grasp.

She grabbed it with her other hand, jerking hard and almost pulling Lance's sword-rifle from his grasp. He kicked her in the shin, which barely dented her Aura but gave him the chance to pivot and yank the blade away.

While Coco was still sorting out her weapon, Lance pulsed his semblance and charged forward, slamming into her with an armoured shoulder. He raised his sword for a powerful attack while she hit the ground. She almost got out of the way. She rolled away from the attack, and instead of hitting her square on the end of Lance's sword clipped her on the shoulder.

The beeping of her Scroll indicated to her the end of the match a second before the loud announcer did.

"That was a good match, Adel," Lance congratulated, offering a hand.

"It was," Coco agreed politely. She took it and pulled herself up. "Congratulations... champion."

* * *

"Damn it!" Cliff shouted in the middle of class.

Around him, the students echoed similar sentiments. Though it was supposed to be a database class, it had quickly turned into something else.

"How many of you are watching the Vytal Festival?" the instructor had asked after noticing half his students glued to their screens instead of his lecture.

In response, half the class nervously raised their hands.

He considered it for a moment before simply saying, "Alright, well, try to do the lab exercises before next week."

One of the students connected his laptop and put the live stream up on the projector, and after ten minutes or so of commentary the short but intense match came on.

"I had ten bucks on Coco," a quick-talking student with anime stickers on his laptop complained.

"Sucker's bet," the bearded young man beside him told him.

"We are so far behind," someone muttered.

"Eh, yes and no," Cliff told him. "I mean, yeah, we don't have forcefields and hovering arenas, but we built some pretty cool stuff."

"Yes, we can destroy ourselves very quickly," the bearded man deadpanned.

"Have you heard about ATI?" a tall blonde asked from other side of the room.

"Like the graphics cards?"

"No, no, not that," Cliff corrected. "Advanced Technology Initiative. Down in the States, they're dumping a bunch of money into what's basically moonshot programs. Fusion research, going back to the moon, that sort of thing."

"I wasn't talking about technology," the original mutterer corrected, louder this time. "Did you see what they did?"

"You mean the superhero shit?"

"Yeah."

"Are you fucking jealous?" the bearded man asked with a laugh.

"Maybe?"

"Dude, I think everyone on this _planet_ is a bit jealous right now."

* * *

"You know, that was a good match," the red-haired woman said as she walked out the arena gates. "I would have liked to see our girl win, but hey, second place isn't bad."

"It was alright," the rough grey-clad man walking beside her answered unenthusiastically.

"Come on, Qrow, lighten up," Rose said, punching him in the shoulder. "The Vytal Festival kicks ass and you know it."

"It's nothing but pointless spectacle," he growled.

"You're just bitter because of that Schnee girl all those years back," she countered.

Qrow glared at her. "I thought you didn't remember."

She shrugged. "Usually, I don't. It just came to me."

He sort of accepted that as an answer. "Sure."

They continued outward on the outer ring, past a bored-looking security guard toward a public shuttle. Qrow moved ahead, pushing past the line and glaring back at those who gave him dirty looks.

"Don't have to be a dick about it, Qrow," Rose muttered. As a hunter, it was within his privileges to skip the lines, but that was a provision meant to be used for when he needed to get somewhere quick, not because he didn't want to wait.

He ignored her, continuing on to the shuttle and taking a window seat near the back corner. Rose took the aisle seat, reached for the seat belt and found there was none.

"Shame Tai couldn't make it," Qrow mentioned for the fourth time that day as the airship slowly backed away from the berth.

"Like I said, hunting mission," Rose explained. "Good pay, low risk, just two weeks on the other side of the planet. I didn't realize travel time would be so long."

"That's inter-Kingdom travel for you," the veteran huntsman remarked. "So, have you given it any thought?"

Rose knew what he was talking about. She replied, "You know what, I'm happy with my job on Patch."

"You're lying," Qrow snapped.

"Honestly, I still haven't figured it out," Rose admitted. "I've been here for what, two months?"

"Sooner or later, Rose, you've got to make up your mind."

* * *

"Well, I'll tell you, that made the Olympics look like an elementary school track meet," Ambassador Watts said to the man across from him as they waited. "No disrespect to our athletes, of course, but if we could ever see superheroes fight, well, that's what it would look like."

"Worried about your national security?" the Canadian delegate asked, passing by them.

"We already knew the Remnans would bring in a whole bunch of issues," he answered cryptically.

"Your transport has arrived," Special Envoy Kishan Vasu told them, entering the waiting area. He motioned toward the exit to the outer ring. "If you will, please."

The delegation headed outward into the cool winds. "Quite the occasion."

"It has been a landmark occasion for both worlds," the British ambassador echoed as the group reached the landing pad. He turned to Vasu. "We greatly enjoyed the experience and I'm sure the millions on our world who watched at home did as well."

"I hope that more of your people are able to visit and enjoy the next Vytal Festival," the Remnan said as they began boarding the helicopter that would take them back to their world.

Pausing at the helicopter door, Watts answered, "Yes, it is a hope our people share as well."

* * *

Finally, the conclusion of the Festival arc. To be honest, I may have made a mistake in writing it. I wasn't planning on writing the Festival arc at first, but I kind of caved to popular demand. I feel that this wasn't a great arc because I didn't have a solid plan for it and my heart wasn't really in it.


	16. Destiny I

**D** **estiny I**

As they had many times before, Ozpin and Qrow conspired in the former's stately office. Their relative positions were ones borne out of habit- the Headmaster behind his desk and the huntsman leaning against one wall with his flask in his hand. The incessant clacking of clockwork reminded them of an unavoidable truth.

"She's not ready," Qrow insisted. "You saw her lose that fight."

"She is the one, I am sure of it," Ozpin argued. "She's strong, intelligent, caring... but most importantly, she _is_ ready. And, to be perfectly pedantic, she did not lose that fight. Team JNPR lost that fight."

"I don't like this, Ozpin, I don't like it at all," the huntsman repeated.

"Nor do I. But the General made it absolutely clear; we cannot wait any longer. We must make our decision within the week, or all will be lost."

"I know, I know," Qrow said with a sigh. "We leave her in that tube and she'll drop dead. We pull her out and she might be useless. Rock and a hard place."

"I'm sorry?" Ozpin asked, unfamiliar with the expression.

"Eh, it's an Earthism I heard from Rose," he explained. "It means we're screwed either way."

Announced by a loud ding, the elevator opened and two familiar figures stepped out. One was Glynda Goodwitch, a fellow co-conspirator. The other was Pyrrha Nikos, who was confused, nervous, and failing at not showing it.

"Hello, Miss Nikos," Ozpin greeted formally.

Qrow snorted.

Pyrrha turned and asked as formally as possibly, "I'm sorry, but I don't believe we've been introduced."

"Name's Qrow," he replied, a tinge of hostility in his voice.

"You're Ruby's uncle!" Pyrrha exclaimed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. She has shared many stories of your skill and heroism."

He snorted again. "I'm sure she has."

"Professor, if you don't mind me asking, why have you called me here?" Pyrrha enquired, facing the headmaster again.

"Please, take a seat," Ozpin said gently, motioning to a chair situated across from him. As she compiled, he asked offhand, "Are you familiar with _The Story of the Seasons?_ "

"Do you mean the fairy tale?"

"Yes."

"Well, of course!" Pyrrha looked up and smiled. "The story of the Four Maidens. My mother loves that story."

"Would you believe me if I told you that one's been around since I was a boy?" the Headmaster asked.

A laugh escaped the girl's lips. "You're not _that_ old, Professor."

"Well, would you believe me if I told you it was true?" he asked pointedly.

Pyrrha blinked, silent. Then, she asked, "Like the legends of Earth?"

"At least she's got a brain," Qrow snarked from the other side of the room.

"After a fashion." Ozpin continued with a thin smile. "What if I told you that there were four maidens existing in this world, that could wield such tremendous power, _without_ Dust?"

"You mean... like a Semblance?"

"Like _magic_."

"I... suppose it's not the craziest thing I've heard lately," Pyrrha admitted. "Is this really true?"

Qrow answered, "Yup. Believe me, I thought it was crazy too."

"Okay."

"Good." Ozpin nodded. "Now, this is the difficult part. We are telling you this, Pyrrha Nikos, because we believe you are next in line to receive the Fall Maiden's powers."

While Pyrrha stood in shocked silence, Qrow stepped away from the wall. "Come on. Let's go meet her."

* * *

When Pyrrha got back to their dorm room, the only person in it was Nora, lying on top of Ren's bed with a book in one hand and a baseball bouncing up and down on the other. She guessed that Jaune had left to practice- she felt a pang of disappointment that he wasn't doing it with her- and Ren probably just needed a break from his overly excited partner.

"So, what did the Headmaster want with you?" the ginger asked, excitedly. "Ooh, did you get in trouble? Was the Invincible Girl a Bad Invincible Girl?"

"No, it's not that," she replied weakly, ignoring the probably-unintentional slight.

"So you _are_ in trouble!" Nora concluded, grinning.

"No!" Pyrrha snapped. "They want my help. It's very important, but it would be... risky for me, and I'm not sure if I can go through with it."

"What exactly do they want you to do?" Nora asked slowly. She closed her book and tossed it onto Jaune's bed, but kept the baseball, bouncing it between her hands.

"I'm not allowed to tell anyone," the champion replied sadly. "I shouldn't have brought it up, I'm sorry."

"Aw, come on Pyrrha, I won't tell anyone." She snapped a salute. "Scout's honour!"

Pyrrha deliberated for a moment. On one hand, Nora was the loudest On the other hand, she knew Nora could keep a secret when she figured it was important. On Earth, while her and Jaune stammered through awkward questions about their origins, Nora had confidently declared that she was actually "Grr from the Planet Zorlon". Her brief smile at the memory was quickly crushed under the weight of her current conundrum.

The redhead decided to explain it. She started with the story of the Maidens and their incredible power and the She explained how they'd taken her down to the vault below the school, showing her the injured girl in the tube. Qrow had confided that the Fall Maiden had been attacked with a strange power-sucking weapon and that she had been on the verge of dying before her vital signs suddenly improved several months ago.

The machine, Professor Goodwitch explained, was capable of transferring her Aura and her powers to another person rather than going to the last person the Fall Maiden had thought of and that Pyrrha had been chosen to receive those powers. They had put off the decisions, but now the preservation process was killing the girl in the tube. If they revived Amber, she would be weak and there was no guarantee she would ever be able to use her powers again.

To her surprise, Nora waited patiently for her to finish. "Wow."

"Yes."

"So, why don't they just wake her up and see?" the ginger asked.

"I told you, they don't know if her powers will come back," she explained again. "She'll be vulnerable and might not be able to defend the world."

"Yeah, but she _might_ ," Nora insisted. "They could just wake her up, wait and see, and if it doesn't work, shoot her in the head and let the power go to someone else."

"Nora!" Pyrrha exclaimed, shocked.

"What? I'm not saying they should, because that would be bad, but they could if they really had to and it was really that important." Nora caught the ball and stared ponderously at it. "Is it?"

"This is an incredible power that cannot be lost or allowed to pass to someone undeserving," Pyrrha answered. "The Headmaster was very insistent on that."

"With great power comes great responsibility," Nora told her. "Did they say what kind of power?"

"That's not the point!" Pyrrha snapped.

"So, what is?"

The redhead chewed her lip. She asked pointedly, "Nora, do you believe in destiny?"

Nora caught the ball and replied offhand, "Nah, I could never really get into it. Too much grinding."

Pyrrha was puzzled at the answer before realizing that she hadn't actually been given one. "I don't mean the game, Nora."

"Hmm..." Nora paused, deep in thought, then snapped her fingers. "Maybe!"

"Nora, I'm serious," she urged. "When I think of destiny, I don't think of a predetermined fate you can't escape. But rather... some sort of final goal, something you work towards your entire life."

"Okay..."

"Well... what would you do if something came along that you... never expected? Something that had the potential to stand between you and your destiny?" She paused and exhaled. "Or what if you could suddenly fulfil your destiny in an instant, but at the cost of who you were?"

Nora started laughing. "Oh, so this is what it's about!"

"I'm sorry?"

"You don't want to cheat your way to being Pyrrha Nikos, Protector of the World!"

"That's not it at all!" Pyrrha shouted angrily. She added, more calmly, "I'm supposed to protect the world, I _know_ it. That's my Destiny. But I don't know if I _can_. I don't know if I can give up everything I have and become the next Fall Maiden."

"There's lots of ways to protect the world, Pyrrha," Nora said. The ball was still in her hands. "They want you to go through with this because they think this is the most important way to do it. But if you don't think it's really how you want to do it, don't."

Before Pyrrha could reply, Nora tossed the ball into an open drawer in her nightstand and slammed it shut, then headed for the door. She added as she left, "But, you know, I'm just a hyper girl with a big hammer, so don't listen to me."

* * *

It was like a fairy tale. An amnesiac finds out that she had an entire life waiting for her. The family in question gets their mother back, a woman they thought long dead. They have their joyous reunion, put everything back in place, and get going with their now-complete lives. Everyone lives happily ever after.

But there was trouble in paradise. There always had been and she should have fucking known better.

It started with little things. Something out of place or in the right place. Passive-agressive "I wish", "Why don't", and "You used to"s. Feelings of unease, tension, and stress. Arguments and awkward conversations. Trouble in bed. She dismissed them as the natural pains of trying to adapt to an unfamiliar life.

And then the fights started.

"I don't _know_ , Tai!" Rose shouted, exasperated. "Sure, fine, this place was my home. You tell me that, Ruby tells me that, Qrow tells me that. I barely remember this place!"

"This is home," Taiyang protested. "You were -"

She snapped, " _Was_ , Tai, _was_. This _was_ home. We _were_ married. I _had_ kids. That was before."

He pleaded, "Summer-"

"Don't call me that," Rose snapped, anger having completely taken over. "That _was_ my name."

She turned, grabbed her bag, and bolted out the door.

* * *

Rose sat on the edge of the retaining wall, watching the waves lap against the shore below her in the fading light. A nearly empty bottle of stout Atlesian whisky sat on the cement next to her.

She really hoped her vague recollections of this being a perfectly acceptable thing to do were correct.

"You look like shit," a familiar voice called.

She didn't turn, but answered coldly, "Don't I know it."

The veteran huntsman sat down beside her and inspected the bottle.

Rose bit her lip before turning and stating, "Ten years, Qrow. Ten years that I actually remember."

"What?"

"I'm starting to think that I'm Summer Rose in name only. Maybe not even that."

Qrow took a drink from her bottle. "Nah. you're still the same person."

"Am I?" she asked harshly. "We're shaped by our experiences, and mine are chasing criminals down the streets of Manhattan."

"Maybe you've just got to give it time," Qrow suggested.

"I've had almost half a year now," Rose told him. "Look, everyone's expecting me to snap back and turn into Summer Rose, but I'm starting to think that's _never_ going to happen."

"You got in another fight with Tai, didn't you?" the huntsman asked piercingly.

She paused before answering. "Yup. He expects me to be the Summer Rose who died ten years ago. I can't say I blame him."

Qrow had no idea what to say, so he simply emitted a noncommittal grunt.

The former huntress laughed. "I figured you didn't show up to listen to me bitch, so why _are_ you here?"

He admitted, "This is probably the worst time possible to tell you, but Ozpin wants to talk."

"Ozpin wants to talk?" she asked with a harsh laugh.

"The offer's still open, for Summer Rose or Rosalind Drake," he told her cryptically.

"Why me?" she pressed. "Why does he want to bring _me_ in so much? What the hell is so important and why am I connected to it?"

"That's really something he should tell you, not me," Qrow said. Seeing the skeptical look on her face, he added, "Trust me, there's a reason."

"I've been sold a lot of bridges since I got here," Rose objected bitterly. "This better be worth it."

"It will be."

Rose nodded. "I need to apologize to Tai. I'll take the airship over tonight."

* * *

And the plot resumes! This arc won't have a lot of action, but it will have quite a bit of conflict. The next one, Defanged, will have both. Both are largely Remnant-centric.

Originally, this arc was slated to be three longer chapters, but I think it'll flow better as four shorter chapters. That's still subject to change.

On a somewhat related note, I want to do a non-canon Through The Looking Glass, Part Five, but I just haven't had the time to write it and I'm not sure if I will in the near future.


	17. Destiny II

**D** **estiny I** **I**

"How's Tai?" Qrow asked the woman across from him as the elevator ascended toward its destination.

"Still pissed," Rose answered with a shrug. The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened with a quiet whirr.

The crimson-haired woman entered the room first, followed by the steely huntsman. The steady clacking of gears echoed from above, evoking cloudy memories in her mind.

"This feels familiar," Rose finally commented.

"It should," Ozpin told her. "You have been here many times, for many reasons."

Qrow smirked at the comment.

"Please, sit down," the Headmaster said, motioning to a chair. "I'm glad you finally decided to join us."

She remained standing. "I'm here because you said you had something to say. That doesn't mean I'm going full Huntress."

"I believe what I am about to tell you may change your mind," he told her with a gleam in his eye. "How much do you remember from your time as a Huntress?"

She answered, "Zip. Zero. Zilch."

"I see that your sharp tongue has remained," Ozpin commented. "Then you should know that you were not only a Huntress. You were one of the best before your untimely- alleged- demise."

"Huh. So that's what Ruby was spouting off about," Rose mentioned. "I'm going to be perfectly honest, every kid thinks they're mom is a hero, especially ones like her. I didn't put much stock in that."

"She was not exaggerating," he confirmed. "Do you know what they say about those with silver eyes?"

"They slay vampires?" Seeing the look on Ozpin's face, she backpedalled. "Look, I'm really taking shots in the dark here. I came here to get answers, not give them."

"A very long time ago, it was said that those born with silver eyes were destined to lead the lives of a warrior," he explained. "It was said that the Creatures of Grimm, the most fearsome monsters humanity has ever encountered, were afraid of those warriors. That even a single look could strike a Grimm down."

"Bullshit. That's just a legend," Rose replied. She recognized the story as something familiar, and knew they'd had a very similar conversation before as well.

Ozpin sighed before pointing out, "So was Earth until not so long ago. Most believe the same about the Maidens."

Another familiar thing that she couldn't place. "The Maidens... what are those again?"

After an awkward pause, Ozpin said, "You really don't remember much, do you?"

"I told you she's totally blank," Qrow reminded him.

"Nope," Rose replied. "But I know I've been here in this office before. And I know we've had this conversation before."

"I see." Ozpin adjusted his glasses. "Then I suppose we will have to start again from the very beginning."

"You'll love this," Qrow commented. He took out his flask and took a quick swig.

Headmaster Ozpin gave her the abbreviated version. He began with the story of the Maidens and _The Story of the Seasons_ , which he stated "has some truth to it." He explained the extent of the Maiden's powers and how the power went to the last person they thought of when they died, except when it didn't. He explained their mission and who was in on it. He mentioned how Amber had been attacked by an assailant they suspected but could not confirm was the fiery-eyed psychopath killed in Texas. He explained their dilemma; why they were afraid to simply revive the Maiden.

Rose had few words. "Holy shit."

"Yeah." Qrow tipped his flask, realized it was empty, and put it away.

"I think it's nuts, but I know we had this conversation before and you convinced me once." To their surprise, she added seriously, "But this is a bad idea. This is a really bad idea."

"Is that a joke, or-"

"There's a reason the Dean of Harvard doesn't carry the football," she snapped.

"What?" Qrow asked, confused.

Ozpin raised an eyebrow.

"If this is really the fate of the world power you say it is, there's no way _four people_ should be safeguarding it," she argued. "This... Illuminati shit is beyond irresponsible."

"On the contrary," the Headmaster retorted calmly. "It is our small numbers that have allowed us to operate in secrecy and accomplish our goals."

"I'm saying this needs to go to the President or whoever sits at the top here," Rose snapped. "Okay, fine, this needs to be secret, but when we have this kind of a secret, there's a reason we push it to the top and not to the side. We have a system and it exists for a reason."

" _You_ might, _we_ don't," Qrow pointed out, glaring daggers at the former huntress.

Rose opened her mouth to retort before realizing that he was right. This was a world where people could shoot fire out of their hands, they were debating transferring the soul out of someone into someone else. The headmaster of a school can and did wield such power. Terran logic did not apply on Remnant. She sighed. "I still think is a bad idea, but okay. Fine. I haven't lived on this planet as long as you. Maybe it's different. Where do _I_ come into this?"

"Whoever the Fall Maiden is, she will need to be protected," the Headmaster told her, eyes piercing her own. "I believe you should be her protector."

* * *

Sometimes, Pyrrha would sneak out of her room and up to the roof in the night when she couldn't sleep. It was probably an unhealthy habit and against school rules, but she couldn't help herself. This time, she wasn't alone. Ruby Rose was sitting on the edge of the roof. She idly flicked a speck of dust off her cloak before noticing the other girl approaching and turning toward her.

"I didn't know you come up here," Pyrrha said quietly.

"Pretty much everyone does now," the crimsonette admitted sheepishly. "Weiss and Blake come up here to do, um, something. Yang sometimes drinks with Nora up here and I just like the view."

"I see."

She flicked off another speck of dust. "I guess you have a big choice to make, huh?"

"Nora told you?" Pyrrha exclaimed in surprise.

"She swore me to secrecy first!" Ruby quickly protested, realizing her mistake. She added quietly, "It was scary."

The red-haired champion sighed and sat down on the ledge beside the redhead. "How _much_ did she tell you?"

"Everything... I think." She laughed nervously. "You know Nora, she talks really fast and I'm not sure how much of it is made up."

"And what do you think?"

"I think you have an incredible opportunity, Pyrrha." Her words were carefully chosen.

Pyrrha picked up on that immediately. "But..."

"But I also think it could be a lot more complicated than that," Ruby continued. "Have you thought about what Amber would want? To pass the torch or to keep fighting? And, I mean, is this even safe?"

"I don't know what the right answer is," she admitted. "The world needs a protector, and you're the best we've got. The Headmaster's old and wise, right? But, I don't know." She shrugged lamely.

Pyrrha's gaze met hers. "Would you do it? If you were in my place, would you agree to it?"

Ruby flicked another bit of dust into the air before answering hesitantly. "I wouldn't want to, but I would."

* * *

Rose headed aimlessly down the halls of Beacon, heading somewhere she'd been before but didn't remember. A large, ornate door slid open before her, revealing a large open room. Inside was a familiar grey huntsman, smacking around a steel target with his massive mechanical sword.

"I think I took a wrong turn somewhere," the woman excused.

"Nah, you're in the right place," Qrow said casually, pausing in his onslaught. "You wanna spar?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

He shrugged. "It's a dangerous world out there. You've got to keep yourself sharp."

"I haven't said yes yet," Rose reminded him.

"You haven't said no, either," Qrow countered. "Come on, let's see what you've got."

She hesitated before replying, "Sure, why not. What's the worst that could happen?"

Qrow drew his sword, giving it an experimental swing as he readied himself for battle. Rose drew her pistol, and flicked the safety off. She drew her knife with her other hand and flipped it into position. The two fighters exchanged nods before beginning the fight.

Calling the fight a one-sided stomp would be generous.

Rose managed to get one shot off before Qrow was upon her. She blocked his sword with her knife-or tried to. The impact sent her to the ground. She rolled out of the way as he swung again, firing a few shots at her opponent that seemed to have no effect.

Qrow backed away, smirking as he tapped his sword against the ground. Rose fired again, charging forward and sliding toward him as she did. The veteran huntsman sidestepped the attack easily and swung again, hitting her on the back.

"You had enough?" he asked.

"Nope." Rose gritted her teeth, picked herself up and backed away, circling her opponent. She feinted to the right and ducked to the left, firing on her opponent as she attempted to put the distance between them. With almost impossible speed, Qrow zipped forward with sword raised and struck her square-on.

Or, he would have if an impenetrable orange barrier hadn't shimmered into existence between them, stopping the sword in its track.

The huntsman withdrew his sword and backed away. "Rose, that's..."

Rose tried to examine the shimmering barrier, but it quickly disappeared. As she stood up, she replied, "Yeah, I have superpowers, isn't that normal here?"

"That's not Summer's Semblance," he stated as if it were some great revelation.

"Okay?" She knew what a Semblance was. It was like a personal superpower; there was more to it but it sounded mostly like mystical mumbo-jumbo. "Logic. Train. Do. Not. Follow."

"I'm really not the one who should be explaining it to you," Qrow said. He took a swig from his ever-present flask. "Basically, it's a manifestation of _you_. I'm pretty sure they're unique to every individual, and it's a thing tied to your Aura that never changes. So if your Semblance is not the same as Rose's Semblance-"

"Then I'm not Summer," she finished darkly.

"Yeah, maybe," Qrow allowed. "We should talk to the old man about this. He knows a hell of a lot more about this kind of stuff than I do."

* * *

It would be an understatement to say Pyrrha was nervous.

She thought she had made up her mind, but there was still a great deal of doubt within her. It gnawed at her conscience as she steeled herself for what she was about to do. The decision had not been an easy one, and she was not sure if her choice was the right one at all.

At first, she was sure that agreeing to take the Fall Maiden's Aura was the right thing to do. She couldn't stay in the tube any longer, and waking her up might leave her weak and without her powers. The transfer process was prepared and ready to go, and if it hadn't been for a fairly small improvement in her condition they would have used it immediately. It was a dangerous world and the Fall Maiden needed to be a protector, not a vulnerability that had to be safeguarded. Pyrrha was destined to be a protector; it was a perfect fit. The only obstacle was her own fear.

Then she realized that refusing it might not be the egocentric option she thought it was. Amber had never given her permission for such a transfer. It was an incredibly invasive procedure and arguably a cruel one, with one soul literally stripped out of the body and forced into another. It was also not without risk. The transfer could work perfectly, it could fail, it could sort of work or it could kill them both. In the worst case, all they had worked for would truly be lost.

Was it really about morality, or was she just rationalizing away what was really a choice between selfishness and selflessness? Was that a knee-jerk response, or was it a matter of risk; of caution versus abandon?

There was no clear answer, and that was what made it all the more difficult.

Pyrrha waited anxiously as the elevator ascended toward the top of the tower. She had made her decision. She just had to stick with it.

* * *

In the vault deep beneath Beacon, an automated process began without any human knowledge or intervention.

Though the stasis pod had sustained the Fall Maiden's life for months, it had been intended as a temporary measure. No one had tested the long-term effects of the pod; it was still highly experimental technology and they had only intended to use it for a few weeks at the longest.

All things considered, the pod had done its job admirably, far exceeding its design specifications. It had kept the Fall Maiden medically alive when any Remnan doctor would have pronounced her dead and any Terran doctor would have begun discussing what to do with her organs. When her condition improved after Cinder was killed, the pod's systems reacted to it and kept her in that state as long as possible. Unfortunately, it could not last forever.

The designer of the pod, not knowing what it would do to its occupant, had built in a simple failsafe. If certain metrics of the occupant's health dropped to critical levels, it would revive them hopefully before it was too late. The failsafe had been deactivated before the Fall Maiden had been placed inside, as her vitals were already below the threshold and attempting to revive her would kill her. When her condition improved, it was rearmed automatically.

When the pod's artificial processes could no longer sustain her body's functions, the failsafe was triggered. Because of the extreme secrecy of the project, only one alert was sent, with no option to halt the process before it began. The sequence was relatively quick and once it had started, it could not be stopped without destroying the pod and killing its occupant.

Whatever thought had been given by anyone else no longer mattered. The decision had been made for them.

Amber was waking up.

* * *

I'm not sure if Destiny will end up being three chapters or four. Not much else to say, other than that this was an interesting chapter to write and it flowed out really well.


	18. Destiny III

**D** **estiny I** **I** **I**

Pyrrha took a deep breath. When she arrived in Ozpin's office, he was already there, along with Qrow and Professor Goodwitch. She wasn't able to catch their conversation, but she could tell it wasn't a positive one. They were clearly tense, and she knew the answer she gave wouldn't help at all.

"Professor Ozpin, I've made my decision," she blurted out loudly before she had a change to back out. "I've considered what you said, and I-"

"It is too late," the Headmaster said bluntly. He rose to his feet and headed toward the elevator. "Come."

Pyrrha gasped as she followed them back into the elevator. "Is she-"

"Nah, she's waking up," Qrow reassured her. His voice seemed more gravelly than usual. "I hope that pod works."

"Miss Nikos, what _was_ your answer?" Professor Goodwitch asked, a tone of curiosity in her voice.

"I was going to say... no," she replied, cringing at her own answer. "I was going to say that the transfer wasn't the best way for me or the Fall Maiden and that we should try to wake her up."

"I see."

The rest of the elevator ride was silent.

* * *

Rose stood against the wall, aimlessly playing with her Scroll and lamenting the lack of Terran news coverage on Remnant. Suddenly, the elevator doors hissed open, and before she could get in a party of four emerged from it.

She was acutely aware that they were seriously pissed off about something, but casually called, "Hey, I was on my-"

Headmaster Ozpin cut her off. "With us. Now."

"Okay." She fell into step behind them as they strode quickly down the hallway. "What the hell's going on?"

"Do you remember what I told you about the Fall Maiden?" he asked.

"It was literally yesterday, so yes," she answered.

Qrow took over as they crowded into another elevator. "Well, something happened with the pod. She's waking up."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Rose asked. "I mean, it's better than something happening and her _not_ waking up."

" _Rose_ ," Qrow warned.

As they began descending, Ozpin stated, "Strictly speaking, it _is_ better than the alternative. However, we do not know what will happen once the awakening process completes and we have precious little time to prepare for any eventuality."

"You worried she's gonna wake up and start shooting up the place... cutting up the place... whatever Maidens do?" Rose asked.

"It is one possibility among many," he answered, unfazed.

"We're worried she's gonna flop out of the pod and drop dead," Qrow offered. "Or she'll wake up fine, someone will find out, and if we're lucky we get to repeat the whole process again."

The elevator doors opened again, revealing a large underground chamber. The floor appeared to be marble or something like it, inlaid with an ornate pattern. Square columns on the sides of the room supported an arched ceiling. Green holographic "torches" lit up as they entered, casting the room in an eerie glow.

"This vault was constructed beneath the school in absolute secrecy to safeguard our most valuable secrets," Glynda explained as they moved through the large room toward an elaborate machine on the other end.

"Sure as hell isn't Vault-Tec," Rose remarked, whistling.

Pyrrha suppressed a giggle.

"What?" Glynda asked, confused.

Rose waved it off. "Nevermind."

They continued across the room toward the machine. A trio of large-screened control consoles sat in the middle, linked to two large pieces of machinery. Both had clear glass tubes attached. The one on the right was empty, but the one on the left contained a brown-eyed, brown-haired young woman with an odd scar on her face.

"The process is nearly complete," Glynda reported after a glance at one of the screens. "The tube will open any minute now."

"Moment of truth," Qrow muttered.

Sure enough, the pod began emitting steam from a set of vents below the tube before opening with a loud hiss. The woman blinked a few times before stumbling forward. Were it not for Qrow's quick actions, she could have fallen to the floor.

Pyrrha gasped. Rose whistled. Ozpin narrowed his eyes.

"Take it easy," the huntsman told her. He relaxed his grip and let go as she staggered to her feet.

"Amber," Headmaster Ozpin greeted quietly.

"Welcome back to the land of the awake," Rose greeted.

"What... happened?" the Maiden asked, her voice a croak.

"You were attacked with an unknown weapon that sapped your power," the Headmaster informed her. "We put you in this machine to preserve your life."

She blinked, then nodded. "I remember that. How long?"

Qrow and Glynda shared a look. The huntress replied hesitantly, "Months."

Amber looked at Pyrrha, then at Rose. "I know you, Pyrrha Nikos. But who would you be?"

"I'm Rose," she said. "We might have met but I wouldn't remember it."

Amber's eyes widened in recognition. "Summer Rose? I thought you were dead?"

"Yeah... sort of. It's a really, really long story," she replied awkwardly.

"You have a lot to catch up on, Amber," Headmaster Ozpin interrupted. "The world has changed a great deal since your... incident."

* * *

"Is she healthy?" Ozpin asked the pink-haired woman as she prodded and fretted over the Fall Maiden.

Though she was not a doctor, Professor Peach was a skilled healer and he could trust her to keep the matter quiet. She pursed her lips before announcing, "Physically, she's in good health, though her Aura is quite weak."

Ozpin nodded. "Thank you, Professor. That will be all."

The Professor gave a quick nod before scurrying away into the elevator.

"I thought your plan was to use the Aura transfer machine if I were to be incapacitated," Amber broached after she had left. Her voice was concerned and curious.

"We had reservations about the process," Ozpin half-answered. "And there were other complications that we did not anticipate. It was determined that the best course of action would be to wait."

"I am weak and vulnerable," Amber said bluntly. "You are well aware of that, and I know you of all people would have taken the pragmatic option. What stayed your hand?"

"The transfer option was never meant to be anything but a last resort," he dodged. "At first we did intend to use it, but your condition improved unexpectedly."

"So why wake me up now?"

He admitted, "The machine could sustain your life no longer, and the one who was to be the next host was not ready."

The Fall Maiden seemed to accept the answer, walking slowly toward the large office window and peering deliberately through it.

"You've noticed the glow, Amber?" Ozpin asked, following behind her.

"Yes." She turned to the Headmaster. "What is it?"

"That is Earth," he answered simply. "Another world, linked to ours by mysterious portals."

"Earth?" she asked, confused.

"Are you familiar with the legend?"

"No," she replied, realizing the irony that she was in fact a legend herself yet the word did not ring a bell.

"That will make things easier, I suppose, for it is not like the legends in the slightest. Earth is a world much like our own yet as different as possible..."

* * *

The next day, the group reconvened in the Headmaster's office. Qrow was already there- it seemed he spent half his time in the office whether invited or not- and Rose had tagged along with him. The trio waited patiently for the final member.

"How is our Maiden doing?" Ozpin asked simply as a tired Professor Goodwitch entered the office.

"All things considered, quite well," Glynda answered. "However, she is still very weak."

"The way in which she was attacked is unprecedented," Ozpin admitted. "Even I am unfamiliar with the attack and its effects."

Qrow took a swig from his flask."Great. So what do we do with her while we wait? Can't just throw her back out there."

"What are you implying?" Ozpin inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"We _think_ Cinder's the one who did it, _think_ ," Qrow answered. "But we never found out how she did it, and by your own admission _she_ was the one behind all this. And if it really is _her_ , she'll try again, probably with someone else. The Fall Maiden is no safer today than she was yesterday."

"Couldn't we just lock her back up in the basement?" Rose suggested half-jokingly.

The Headmaster shook his head. "The Fall Maiden would never agree to such a proposal."

"Which is why she needs a protector," Glynda implored, shooting Rose a hard look. "Someone to keep this from happening again."

"I don't know if that'll work," the grizzled huntsman argued. "It didn't work last time."

"They would need to be a true guardian, accompanying the Maiden at all times, ready to defend them at a moment's notice and at the cost of their life if necessary," Ozpin mused.

Rose had a retort on the tip of her tongue, but instead suggested bluntly, "Give her to me."

"I thought you didn't say yes," Qrow reminded her.

"I didn't," she corrected. "I can't be the protector you want me to be, but I _can_ protect her. Give her to me and I'll take her with me to Earth."

He snorted. "What's that gonna do?"

"Who would look for the Fall Maiden in Manhattan? Or maybe rural Texas or something. Plenty of places to hide on Earth," the woman explained. "And even if someone figured it out, they'd have to cross one of the most secure borders on the planet."

"Can you do that?"

"It'll take a few days," she answered. "You _will_ have to bring a few people in. The President, his Cabinet, probably the Director of the FBI and the Director of Homeland Security. Maybe the ambassador, too. More people will have to be in on it but we can spin a cover story for them."

"Secrecy is our most potent weapon," Ozpin objected. "We would seriously jeopardize that by revealing this to so many people."

"This is the Terran way of doing things. That sounds like a lot of people but this would be one of the most classified operations ever. It's a bigger planet with bigger systems, you want to do something like this you can't keep it in your little circle," Rose argued. She added quickly, "Yeah, we'll need to do some sleight-of-hand, but whoever you're talking about won't expect it."

"Sooner or later, Earth will open up to Remnant," Glynda mentioned. "The foundations are already being laid. The level of protection afforded will erode as that happens."

Rose nodded. "By then hopefully her powers will come back, or we'll have put that bitch you were talking about in the ground. There's no permanent solution here and I think you know that. This will buy us time."

"It's a plan," Qrow half-agreed.

"Exactly." Rose snapped her fingers. "Come up with a better plan in six months and we'll go with it. Until then, it's _something_."

* * *

Real life is busy. Destiny IV should come out pretty quickly- it's more an epilogue than anything- but I'm not sure how far I'll get on Defanged. I may push Defanged to 2017 to give myself more time for other works. This may mean losing or shortening another arc but I'm not sure yet.


	19. Destiny IV

**D** **estiny I** **V**

Rose trudged quietly toward the cliff's edge. The sun was scattered by the morning haze and the world was quiet. A perfectly solemn morning for a perfectly solemn occasion. Her customized rifle was held loosely in one hand, a half-full bottle of Atlesian whisky in the other.

"Figured I should come back here at least once before I go," she said to the a square stone gravestone set near the edge. "I've been putting this off for months. Seeing my own grave? There's a creep factor there, you've got to admit that."

"Yeah, it's fucking creepy. Here lies Summer Rose, thus kindly I scatter. Then again, they never actually found the body. Sometimes I wonder how many stories like mine are out there."

"I'm not you." She sighed and put down the gun beside the gravestone. "Sure, the genes all line up, but.. Summer Rose died on Remnant and Rosalind Drake woke up on Earth. No other way of putting it."

She waggled a finger. "You know, by the Remnan definition, we did die. No obvious pulse. It was just V-fib, which is a lot scarier than it sounds. But I don't think that semantic has anything to do with this."

"Something something losing it all and being reborn. You know what I mean. I guess we _are_ the sum of our experiences, and I more or less lost all of those," she continued. "On the good days, I feel like I've shed a huge burden. On the bad days, I feel like I've lost the best part. I'll be honest, I have more bad days then good."

"I've abandoned one family and I'm about to abandon another, by my own choice. I've done some shitty fucking things," the woman monologued. "In a way, you're still with me. Those inexplicable memories, that strange intuition, that annoying fucking moral compass. A remnant of Summer Rose."

She laughed as she picked up her gun. "I'm literally talking to myself. Fuck, that's a new low, even for me."

"Then again, as we've discussed, you're not me." She waved the bottle for emphasis. "But I guess the whole thing's a metaphor, so I'm literally talking to an inanimate object."

The gravestone, of course, gave no response.

Rose gave the stone marker one last glance before turning away. "Goodbye, Summer."

* * *

Amber, the Fall Maiden, was afraid. She was a literally legendary fighter, who had taken on numerous assailants as well as the Grimm. In her weakened state, she would be doing far less of that, but it was not her physical vulnerability that concerned her. Well, that scared her, too, but this... this was a different kind of a fear. She was in many ways an outcast and a runner, and that was here on Remnant. From what she had been told, Earth was a very different place. It would be difficult to hide her nature and she would have to trust virtual strangers. Hiding was something she was not good at, as her earlier experience could attest.

But the Headmaster had made it very clear. The world on the other side of the portal, strange as it may be, was the safest place for her.

Still, perhaps the other solution would have been the better fate.

She was the damn Fall Maiden and she was nervous about _this_?

Amber finished packing her meagre possessions and headed out to meet Rose at the airship docks. Personally, she wasn't sure about the woman. She had heard the stories of the great Summer Rose, and this woman seemed very little like that lofty ideal. But she trusted the Headmaster, and the Headmaster trusted Rose, so she would trust-

The young woman was knocked to the floor as soon as she rounded the corner, her bag flying out of her hands and skittering across the tile. She scrambled to her feet, cursing her flimsy state.

"I'm sorry!" a familiar redhead apologized, picking up the bag and handing it back. "I didn't see you coming."

"No need to apologize," Amber told her. "I was distracted, something I can ill afford to be."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

"Um..." Pyrrha rubbed her arm awkwardly.

"You _can_ talk to me, you know," Amber assured the girl. "There's something you want to say."

"I should be apologizing for more than running into you," she admitted. "I mean, in a way, this is my-"

"Pyrrha. " Amber laid her hand on the redhead's shoulder. "Thank you."

"Thank... you?" Pyrrha asked, confused. "Why are you thanking me? I refused the transfer."

"The transfer was a last resort, not something that I ever wish to undergo. It is a terrifying process, one that would fly in the face of nature," she answered, speaking from the heart. "I am concerned, yes, and confused, yes, but if this is how things are meant to be, this is how they are meant to be. It is not your time to fulfil your destiny, and it is not my time to fulfil mine."

* * *

There was one more thing Rose had to do before she left, and she dreaded it almost as much as visiting her own grave. She had to see her daughters. She'd left once, though not by choice, and now she was leaving again. She knew they wouldn't take it well.

Well, that had been an understatement.

"You're leaving?" Ruby cried, shocked. She pulled her cloak tighter, tears welling up in her eyes.

"It was good to be back, but I've been gone a long time and my place is on the other side of the portal now," she offered in the way of explanation, giving the crimsonette a comforting hug. "At least for now. I'll try to come back when I can."

While Ruby was upset and disappointed, Yang was visibly angry. She glared at Rose, a tinge of red in her normally magenta irises. "So you've been back, what, six months, and now you're leaving?"

"I came here in one hell of a hurry. There's a lot I just left hanging in New York, and it's going to come back and bite me if it hasn't already," she answered weakly. "A lot of loose ends."

The blonde brawler wasn't convinced. "Sure."

"I can do more on Earth than I can do here," she argued. It wasn't a lie. "The worlds are coming together. I'm never going to be a huntress again, but I can do my part over there."

Another sarcastic response. "Uh-huh."

She didn't want to burden them with her truth. And she couldn't use the Maiden as an excuse, because opsec was a bitch. "This is how it has to be."

"You're not Summer. You're a coward," Yang snapped.

"I'll be back," she reassured them, ignoring the deeply stinging insult. "I promise."

Her daughters shared a look and mumbled their farewells.

Rose sighed, picked up her bag, and left.

* * *

"The diplomatic flight just left. The Fall Maiden is aboard, and she will soon be ensconced in a safe haven on Earth," Headmaster Ozpin informed over the video link, his voice carefully controlled.

From his office on the other side of the planet, General Ironwood asked simply, "Was this wise?"

"They've promised to keep this as secret as possible, and to place her far beyond the reach of our enemy in a way that we cannot."

"How much did you tell them?" the General asked. He appeared calm on the surface, but his old friend could see the frustration boiling beneath.

"A basic understanding of the importance of the Maidens," Ozpin answered simply. "I am sure they will learn more over time. It is not a trade I made lightly, but given what is at stake it is a fair one-"

"Damn it, Oz, we can't just give everything away to the Earthers." The General rubbed his temples. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"We had to act, James," Ozpin told him, keeping his calm. "See this from my point of view. We were banking on an alternate strategy, circumstances changed and our hand was forced."

"We can protect her," Ironwood insisted.

"Can we?" the Headmaster asked. Receiving no answer, he elaborated, "She has more pawns than the one defeated on Earth, and she will try again. We could not protect her last time."

"Please tell me you at least have a backup plan."

He smirked. "Of course. One of our own is with her."

"You mean the amnesiac?" Ironwood questioned. "I know Summer Rose was one of the best, and believe me I'm not saying this lightly, but that woman is not She practically renounced our cause herself! At best she's an unknown-"

Ozpin held up a hand. "I trust her. Despite what she claims, Summer is still there. She will keep Amber safe, even if she has never agreed to do so."

* * *

The brown-haired young woman held on tightly as she bounced up and down in her seat in the back of the Earth-built aircraft. Of all the airship rides that had not involved combat, this one was by far the roughest. It was loud, too, the whine of the engines mixed with the whapping of a set of rotor blades above the cabin roof.

However, she was not focused on the troubling gyrations of the strange airship (a "black hawk", someone had called it), but rather on the view.

It was still day in Vale, but night had fallen on the other side of the portal. They were rapidly approaching a sprawling metropolis, lit up brightly against the darkening sky. It looked much like a city on Remnant, but was broader, brighter, and lacked the perimeter defences that often defined the city limits. She could tell that though it was a strange land, it was still a place full of life.

"Is that New York?" the Fall Maiden asked, staring out the window.

"No, that's just Vancouver," Rose answered with a laugh from the seat across from her. "We're gonna meet with some friends, then we'll hop on a plane and cross the continent."

"Oh," she said, disappointment in her voice. She hadn't understood half of what the woman had said, either.

"Still a long way home, Amber. Earth's a big place," Rose told her. She added lamely, "Hey. It's not scary. You'll like it here."

She offered no reply.

* * *

I was going to say Destiny was going to be the last arc of 2016, but I've started watching V4 which has me a bit more excited about TRX, so we'll see. Most likely we'll see an Aside or two before the end of the year but not the beginning of Defanged.

I'll admit that I've been playing with my new 4K monitor and my ever-troublesome dock instead of writing this chapter. However, I have finally started watching Volume 4. There are a few things that will probably make their way into TRX, but others are now completely AU or will have to wait until Emergence Next.


	20. Defanged I

**D** **efanged I**

Behind the stage, a young raven-haired faunus paced back and forth, wringing her hands and constantly checking the time on her scroll. Her dress was crisp and formal, her deportment less so. She bit her lip, trying to hide a deep frown.

A girl with snow-white hair leaned against the wall behind her, a mix of amusement and annoyance on her face. She interrupted, "Blake."

"I know, Weiss, I know," Blake said, halting her pacing. "I know it's silly, because I used to be at the front of every rally, but that was a long time ago, and it's different this time. I just don't want to get this wrong."

"Do you know what you're going to say?" Weiss asked firmly.

She replied, "Yes, but-"

The white-haired girl cut her off as she stepped toward her. "Do you know how you're going to say it?"

Again, the faunus began to reply, "Yes-"

"Then you'll be fine." Weiss gave her hand a squeeze, her skin cool against her own. She leaned forward and pecked her on the cheek. "Knock 'em out, Blake."

"Thanks."

Blake Belladonna took a deep breath, straightened herself, and marched out onto the stage. She ignored the clapping crowd and bright lights, focusing on the lectern ten paces ahead of her. As soon as she took position behind it, a holographic teleprompter flared to life in front of her. She spared a glance at the screen behind her, verifying that it was displaying the correct slide, before turning and offering the audience a thin smile.

"Hello. I'm Blake Belladonna," she introduced, trying valiantly and not quite succeeding in masking the trepidation in her wavering voice. The crowd- _god, it must have been thousands_ \- quieted down, awaiting her next words. She gulped and ignored the screen in front of her. "Some of you may have heard of me, even though as odd as this may sound, I'm known better on Earth than on Remnant. For those that aren't, I'll start with my own past, my own radicalization and my own deradicalization."

With a flick of her hand, she advanced to the next slide. The words were flowing easier now. _Breathe._ _Relax_. "I was practically born into the White Fang. At the time, it wasn't a terror group. The White Fang started off as a peaceful movement, and remained that way for years. That's a story that's all too common, as we'll see very soon. We were fighting for equality, for rights, and fair treatment..."

* * *

"The unique thing about my story is that it's not unique at all," the black-haired faunus behind the lectern stated. Her voice was firm and strong. "There are thousands of others who stand right now at some point in my narrative. Some are at the beginning, idealistic and believing they can change the world. Some have moved on or skipped straight to the disenfranchisement, the rejection, the turn toward darkness. Some have committed to the cause, finding an outlet where they can make some kind of difference, no matter what they do to get there. And some, thankfully, are leaving that behind..."

Near the middle of the room, a dark-haired man wearing the uniform of the US Air Force watched the presentation intently. Lieutenant Colonel Andres Schultz leaned to the right and said quietly, "You know, it's not an airship, but on second thought, I think this was worth going to."

The serious-faced DSS agent beside him nodded. In fact, M. Royce Payton was hardly paying attention to the presentation at all. His eyes were elsewhere, scanning the room for threats. This was far from his first rodeo. There could be a bomb or a shooter somewhere in the room, a crazed gunman or a fanatical terrorist lurking in the crowds. Everything could change in a matter of seconds.

The United States had its fair share of enemies, and by extension so did the military attache he was protecting. Before the presentation, he'd gone over the nature of the event and the current situation in Vale. He had his own shortlist of potential threats. The usual boogeymen- the new round of extremists that had risen- weren't a factor here. He'd heard rumours that a few had made it across the portal in Syria, but they weren't here in Vale. In fact, any Terran group was unlikely. Unfortunately for him, the locals were just as fierce if not as brutal. It was the White Fang that had him the most worried. His charge was a prime target because of the bombings, and to them the presentation they were watching was basically a two-hour indictment of them.

The agent didn't completely trust Remnan security. His first impression was that of a brute- big on firepower, short on strategy. But, he grudgingly admitted, they seemed to know what they were doing once you accepted that it was literally an alien world. And if something did happen, hopefully they'd buy his team enough time to evacuate his charge. He knew exactly what their odds were against a local threat, and saying it didn't sit well with him was an understatement. They had a plan for every contingency, but plans never survived first contact with the enemy.

Most likely, nothing would happen. They would watch the presentation and be on their way. The military attache would report on the event, adding a footnote to the mounds of analysis that would no doubt be performed on a recorded version of the event in Washington. Another pile of "interesting stuff" that he silently facilitated.

* * *

"Radicalization is a complex process, one that we really haven't looked at much before. Despite terrorism being as old as recorded history, only in the past century has it been extensively studied on either Remnant or Earth," Blake recited from the stage. Her eyes flicked downward briefly before she continued. "Every case is different. Every terrorist we know of has a different story. But like always, there are trends and there are patterns..."

Two rows down from the American military attache and his protector sat a very different pair. Both were professors from Beacon, and that was where the similarities ended. Peach was a short, slight woman with long, flowing pink hair and an elaborate bodice of muted purple. Oobleck was a tall man with pointy green hair wearing clothes that could be considered professional if they weren't so messy.

The woman said quietly, "I worry for that girl. She's brave, but this could get her arrested or worse."

"I believe the Headmaster has already taken care of things," Oobleck answered quickly and quietly. "As is always the case throughout history, it pays to have friends in high places."

"Ozpin may be able to keep her from being arrested, but I can think of a dozen people who'd want her dead," Peach said frankly. "She's probably the first person to be an enemy of the White Fang and the SDC."

He didn't answer for a moment, but when he did the words came quickly. "Every revolutionary leader has had more than their fair share of enemies."

"Do you believe she is a revolutionary leader?" the pink-haired woman questioned.

The professor considered that for a moment. "Perhaps. She may be a brief celebrity or a staying voice."

She changed the topic slightly and asked, "How did she get this, anyway?"

The green-haired man answered with a smirk. "One does not deny a celebrity of two worlds."

"She plays a dangerous game," Peach commented wryly.

"The best games are the most dangerous ones," Oobleck replied sagely. "The higher the risk, the greater the reward, especially in our business. A hard lesson, but one you know that as well as I do."

"Indeed."

* * *

"There's a lot of misinformation out there, and some still like to imagine Earth as a peaceful utopia, but the truth is far from it," Blake stated, speaking confidently and gravely. Her eyes flicked briefly down to the display below, confirming what she already knew. She was about a third of the way through and running slightly ahead of schedule. Behind her, a series of pictures- all of terrifying scenes- flew onto the screen. "There are thousands of terrible reasons I called this _Lessons From Earth and Lessons From Remnant_."

A pair of towers, one visibly aflame and both belching thick black smoke. "New York, 2001. Aircraft hijacking. 2996 deaths. Islamic extremists. This is the 9/11 you'll often hear Terrans talk about."

A blurry photo of hundreds of children packed into a crowded gym, a bomb hanging above their heads. "Beslan, 2004. Hostage taking and standoff. 385 deaths. Chechen separatists. The response was deeply controversial."

A pile of smoking rubble in the middle of a desert. "Iraq, 2007. Bombings. 449 deaths. A lot of Terrans ignore events in that part of the world, even though that's where it happens the most."

The last image of the sequence showed an unfamiliar place with a few familiar figures. "And this one, is in a way, our fault. Texas, 2015. Mass shooting. 191 deaths. White Fang."

She paused, hesitating, and never got a chance to continue.

Near the back of the hall, an explosive device detonated. There was no warning. One moment, everything was normal. The next moment, the rear wall was obliterated along with anyone near it, with half the room sprayed by fragments and tongues of flame.

A talk meant to fight terror had just become the scene of a terror attack itself.

* * *

Finally, Defanged. Four chapters, anachronic order, something new this time. Shorter than I'd hoped. A lot of writer's block and distractions, and possibly terrible timing.


	21. Defanged II

**D** **efanged I** **I**

 _Eight hours earlier_

Below a small brick building on the outskirts of Vale, a dozen faunus gathered in the basement.

It was a family-owned restaurant like many others in the city, closed for maintenance at the moment. Or, at least, that was what it was supposed to be. Though it did operate as a restaurant, customers would find the prices high, service mediocre and food lousy. The "restaurant" was in fact a cover for a White Fang base of operations. Hiding out in the Grimmlands didn't work as well as it used to, and they had been forced to adapt.

"Today we will strike the conference in the heart of Vale," Adam Taurus announced. "Security will be heavy, but nearly all of our sworn enemies will be represented here. It's a risk with a great reward. The symbolic value alone will be tremendous for our cause."

The rest of the group nodded approval. Some of the faunus were dressed like him in White Fang garb, with visible weapons. The others were much more inconspicuous, wearing the usual brightly-coloured clothing of Valic citizens. All were hand-picked members of the White Fang.

He tacked up a series of pictures to a well-used corkboard. Scrolls could be hacked and tracked, and he didn't trust them. Not after what that creepy bitch had tried to do.

"Councillors Ciera and Berry." He pointed out a face for each name. "As much as I hate to admit it, Ciera is the closest thing we have to an ally on the Vale Council. Kill her if you must, but try to avoid it. Berry I won't shed any tears for."

One faunus laughed quietly. The rest muttered agreement.

"Lieutenant Colonel Andres Schultz, United States Air Force." He spat the words. "We know what this bag of trash is responsible for. He may be a Colonel, but he's Terran. I bet he'll splatter like a jar of jam."

This time, the laughter was more prominent.

"Professors Oobleck and Peach." Adam paused. "They'll try to stop us. Avoid them. There's no love lost between me and Beacon Academy, but we all know how powerful hunters are."

"Weiss Schnee." He slammed his fist against the table. "I'm not entirely sure why she's there- perhaps some sort of publicity stunt. We all know what the Schnees stand for. Kill her if you have the chance, but be careful. She's well on her way to being a huntress."

The faunus under his command laughed and smirked wickedly. It was rumoured Weiss Schnee was more sympathetic to the faunus than her father, but it didn't matter. The only good Schnee was a dead Schnee.

"Blake Belladonna, the star of the show." Adam growled, a low, dangerous roar. "Our target. She's mine and mine alone."

He received a murmur of reluctant agreement in response.

"For too long, we have watched as our brothers and sisters were struck down mercilessly by an enemy that claimed they wanted peace," the bull faunus concluded, his voice controlled again. "Today, we strike back. Today, the New Fang rises."

* * *

"Looks good," Agent M. Royce Payton said to his counterpart, switching off his flashlight as they finished their rounds of the darkened facility. "I still have a few concerns about the screening, but there's nothing that can be done about that. If there's nothing else, I'll contact my superiors and let them know the good news."

"I can't help but ask why this is necessary," the security chief complained. He was a professional, and he didn't take kindly to having his work second-guessed by someone who had no idea how this world even operated. Why couldn't he just admit he was out of his element and let the experts handle it?

"I don't mean to question your work," Payton excused. He had immediately taken a disliking to the security chief, finding him irresponsibly arrogant. Still, he seemed to know what he was doing. "You have to understand my government has had a... storied history with events being interrupted. We're very careful, maybe even a little paranoid."

"As have we," he snapped. "We are familiar with terrorism, Mister Payton. It does happen here. We are _also_ very careful."

"I'm not saying you aren't," the DSS agent backpedalled. "Look, I'm just doing my job."

"And so am I."

The Terran spent a moment trying to figure out what his counterpart was implying before shrugging and getting on his radio. "The site looks good. We have a go."

* * *

"...and that's why we must continue to fight terror at the source, in our own backyard. Thank you."

As Blake finished her speech, a round of quiet applause echoed through the room. She turned away from the dormitory mirror and frowned. "Did I do okay?"

"Why do you keep asking that?" Weiss asked from the corner of her bed. "You did great. Just like you did last time and the time before that."

"Sorry, it's just... I really want to get this right," the faunus excused.

"You will," she answered. "Just speak from the heart. You can't go wrong with that."

"You've changed."

"We've _all_ changed."

"I thought you've done this before," the blanchette prodded, changing the subject..

"Interviews and streaming aren't the same as actually delivering a speech in front of people," Blake reminded her.

Weiss reflected briefly on her own experiences before agreeing. "True."

"What if something really bad happens?" Blake asked, quieter this time.

"I'm sure it's going to go fine," Weiss huffed. "People love you."

"Not everyone." They both knew she had a list of enemies a mile long.

"The people who don't like you are the ones who won't be there."

Blake chewed her lip. "Yeah, I guess."

Weiss hopped off the bed. "Three hours to showtime. Better get dressed or we're going to miss the flight."

* * *

Professor Bartholomew Oobleck found many things interesting. History, of course. The story of mankind and its endless struggle against the Grimm. And the next generation, what they needed to learn and what could be learned from them. If he didn't have those interests, he wouldn't be teaching, would he?

He also found the people filing into the auditorium interesting. Moreso even than the auditorium itself, which he understood had quite a storied history.

Ahead of them was a man in the uniform of the United States Air Force. A fascinating organization. They had rough equivalents on Remnant, of course, but how important the air was to Earth armies really spoke to the vast differences in doctrine. The Major- or was he a Lieutenant Colonel?- was surrounded by several others in black suits, one of them speaking quietly into an invisible microphone. The Secret Service, he surmised. No doubt there was a story behind that name that he would have to pry out of an Earther someday.

Splitting off from the slow-moving queue behind him was a group of faunus. Probably the Faunus Liberation Front, though they could be members of a different movement. He could also see the suspicious eyes of some of the humans in the room. No doubt the White Fang had not made things easy for faunus who genuinely wanted change through peaceful means.

He caught a glimpse of a few Councillors in the corner of his eye. Politicians were the same everywhere, a wise man had once said, and he was inclined to agree. It was amazing how their attitudes toward politicians were so similar to those on Earth despite the vast differences in government. Although sometimes he did question how many Earthers _really_ saw politicians as nothing more than functionaries.

A tall woman wearing the uniform of the Royal Vale Army crossed the aisle in front of him, exchanging a few words with the American Major. He wished he could make out the words. The woman was wearing the wings of a pilot, so perhaps they were discussing aircraft. The vast technological differences and their consequences. Or perhaps something far more inconsequential.

"Interesting crowd today," Oobleck remarked to his companion.

"It's an interesting event," Professor Peach replied. The short, bright-haired woman darted forward, selecting a seat near the front of the section.

He was tempted to complain about the sub-optimal positioning, but instead nodded agreement and took a seat beside her. It would be interesting indeed.

* * *

In the dark maintenance shafts, the two faunus were invisible to those beginning to fill the building above. They couldn't stay down here forever, but soon it wouldn't matter.

One of the pair was a deer faunus, a now middle-aged woman who'd seen the Fang rise and fall again and again. She was one of the oldest, most reliable soldiers in the group. The other was a young woman with the tail of an otter, their foremost bomb expert in the Vale region since the last had been killed in an airstrike.

The young bomber clipped the last wire and twisted it together before surveying her work. "Done."

"Good." The deer faunus nodded. "Do you know when to hit the detonator?"

"Yeah, that's the one thing I'm worried about," she admitted.

"From the speech." The older faunus repeated, "Mass shooting with 191 deaths. This one-"

"-was our fault, in a way. It was the work of the White Fang." she finished. "I know what it's supposed to be. Blake sometimes ad-libs her speeches, that's what I'm worried about."

"You'll know when," the old soldier told her confidently.

The bomb master poked the connection again, frowned, and redid it.

"Should we really..." She trailed off, took a deep breath, and started again. "I've just- Isn't Blake one of the most outspoken advocates for faunus rights?" She let the question hang.

"Belladonna made her choice long ago, and so did we," she replied firmly. Her voice softened, and she clapped her hand on the young woman's shoulder. "Trying to take a third path is how we got here in the first place. She wants the same thing we do, sure, but she's not willing to do what needs to be done to get there. This is how we free our people."

She bit her lip. "Right. Sorry."

"You're nervous." They both knew it was a convenient lie. "You have every right to be, but you're the best we have. You know what you're doing, and you'll get it right. For our people."

"For our people."

* * *

Blake paced back and forth behind the stage, unable to contain her nerves. What if she froze up? What if she said the wrong things? What if someone tried to stop her? What if it was all a ploy to-

Weiss's ice-cold yet sugary sweet voice interrupted, "Blake."

"I know, Weiss, I know," she replied, stopping in her tracks. "I know it's silly, because I used to be at the front of every rally, but that was a long time ago, and it's different this time. I just don't want to get this wrong."

"Do you know what you're going to say?" Weiss asked firmly.

She replied, "Yes, but-"

Weiss cut her off. "Do you know how you're going to say it?"

Again, the faunus began to reply, "Yes-"

"Then you'll be fine." Weiss gave her hand a squeeze, the former heiress's skin cool against her own. She leaned forward and pecked her on the cheek. "Knock 'em out, Blake."

* * *

Posted without comment, because I am very tired right now.


	22. Defanged III

Well, that took a while. I've been busy and kind of had writer's block especially for this project, and recent events certainly did not help any.

 **D** **efanged I** **I** **I**

"Blake!" Weiss shouted, coughing as the choking smoke and dust showered the backstage area. She couldn't see much through the haze, but she could hear the pandemonium. "Blake!"

It had happened so fast. One moment, she had been watching the presentation from the side, the next the hall was in chaos and she couldn't even see the podium. She couldn't see much, but the blast was loud, and there was a lot of debris. She could hear the screams of the injured.

A sharp cracked echoed through the air, followed immediately by three more. Gunfire. The bomb was only the beginning. Whoever was attacking wasn't going to stop there. They were coming in to finish the job.

It was like Texas all over again. She could smell the death through the haze.

"Miss Schnee, we have to move," a security guard in bright green urged her.

She jerked her arm away. "I'm not leaving without Blake." Thinking quickly, she bolted into the hallway behind the stage, trying to figure out where the raven-haired faunus would have run to. Her left hand reached down toward Myrtenaster. Her right brushed up against a reassuring lump of steel under her jacket.

If it was who she thought it was, she'd need all the help she could get.

* * *

Agent Payton realized what was happening before he'd even recovered from the shock of the initial explosion. He spent a few precious seconds sizing up the situation as the first gunshots rang out. Fear coursed down his spine. It didn't matter who precisely was attacking. They were dangerous, and if they were Remnan, doubly so.

He had to act. Fight or flight? They needed to move now if they were going to survive. The main exits were unusable- that's where the attackers were coming from. The front doors near the stage. He grabbed the Colonel and pushed him forward. "Let's go, we need to move!"

The rest of his detail formed a protective cordon, several of them firing uselessly toward the attackers. What might have been a mass shooting quickly turned into a firefight as security guards and several attendees produced weapons and opened fire. Others scattered in various directions, their screams audible under the rapid gunfire. Things were about to get really hot, really fast.

He shouted over his radio, "Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Payton, Dragonfly under fire at the Vale Convention Centre. There has been a bombing, negative contact with-" He halted and doubled over as a fiery pain lanced through his shoulder. He glanced over and saw his dark suit was slick with blood. He'd just been shot, and the shock would set in as soon as the adrenaline wore off. He switched his gun to his good hand, ducking behind a seat and eyeing the antlered woman who had shot him.

A green-haired man leaped between them, firing his strange-looking weapon at the attacker. They exchanged glances briefly before the agent continued toward the exit, gun still in his good hand. Another agent covered their charge, pushing him forward and through the swinging door.

* * *

Blake Belladonna couldn't help but dwell on the irony as she ran. She'd said she would stop running. She had stopped running and she had taken a stand. And now she was running again, albeit for different reasons.

She was pretty sure it was the White Fang. She'd caught a glimpse of the distinctive masks on one of the attackers, and who else would be breaking up a talk denouncing violent extremism on Remnant? It could be a false flag, of course. But who would it be and what were they trying to accomplish?

As she bolted down the maintenance catwalk, she could hear the commotion coming from the main hall. Part of her felt compelled to leap into action and join the fight. But the hall was full of security guards, soldiers, and hunters, with more no doubt on their way. They could handle it. She'd only make things messier. And if it was her they were after, she needed to get as far away as possible.

Save the day, stop the bad guys, get the girl. Ruby might believe in that sort of story, but she didn't. She was leaving.

But first, she had to find Weiss. After the explosion, she'd been disoriented and ended up bolting out a side door. By the time she'd circled backstage, her girlfriend was nowhere to be found. Where would she have gone?

She leaped down from the catwalk, landing in front of a dull-dressed individuals. Terrans. The one in the front raised his gun, then lowered it a fraction of an inch. "Miss Belladonna, you need to get out of here."

Blake ignored the response. "Weiss Schnee. Have you seen her?"

"No, ma'am," the agent answered, a look of confusion crossing his face. "You can come with us but we have to go now."

She shook her head and bolted away. "Sorry."

* * *

Zydruna, security chief of the Vale Convention Center, was not having a good day.

He winced as a grenade flew over his head and exploded against the wall behind him. He shouldered his weapon, a double-barreled automatic shotgun, took aim at the terrorist with the grenade launcher and pulled both triggers. A pair of slugs raced across the room and slammed into her, sending her flying.

One down, a dozen more to go. And the ones left were the best fighters. Fortunately for Zydruna and the good guys, there was a pair of hunters in the audience and they were tying up the Fang's five best fighters. He could hear sirens outside through the din of battle, meaning the police were almost there. They'd beat back the Fang.

But they had already lost. The talk was thoroughly disrupted to put it gently. A good portion of the audience- he didn't care to guess how many- lie dead on the floor. Most of his security team consisted of young men and women with far more experience throwing out drunkards than facing off against terrorists. Many of them were already dead. The White Fang- if that was who the attackers truly were- weren't going to walk away, but they'd already accomplished much of their mission. It was all damage control now.

Ramming more shells into his weapon, Zydruna strafed across the perimeter of the ruined hall to get a better shot. He stepped over two dead men and an immobilized woman bleeding out on his way.

* * *

"Weiss!" Blake shouted as she burst out the roof access. Up and away, she figured. She looked around and saw no sign of the girl. Maybe she'd been too optimistic with her assumption.

"Blake," a voice replied coldly.

It was not a voice she wanted to hear again, not now or ever. Shivers went down her spine as her former partner stepped out from behind a ventilation unit. "Adam."

"How could you do this?" the bull faunus spat. He circled, keeping his weapons up and ready but making no move to attack.

"Do _what_?" She drew her own weapon, sheath in one hand and gunblade in the other.

"You turned your back on your people!" he roared. "You turned your back on me!"

"Really? That's what this is about?" Blake asked rhetorically. "You're angry because I left?"

"I'm angry because you refuse to understand," Adam corrected, voice hard. "This is how our people will be free! Pleasant speeches and peaceful protests accomplish nothing. You may think you've won a victory, but you haven't changed anything. The only thing the humans will listen to is force! This is the only way we can have justice, Blake!"

"This isn't about justice, this is about revenge!" Blake pointed out.

"It doesn't matter!" Adam snapped. "Today, you die! Today, the new Fang rises!"

He moved to attack, but before he could dart forward, a bullet slammed into his flank in a colourful explosion. He snarled and turned toward his attacker.

Weiss emerged from the other end of the roof, ornate sword in one hand and gold-plated gun in the other. "Get the fuck away from her."

Adam smirked as he recovered, angling himself so that he could see both of his opponents. "I've always wanted to kill a Schnee."

To his surprise, Weiss laughed sharply. "God, could you be any more cliche?" She turned to Blake. "Let's just kill him already."

"I'd like to see you try." Adam rushed forward, blade in one hand and gun in the other. He charged toward Blake, who raised her sword to counter, only to dive to the right toward Weiss.

She countered quickly, bringing up Myrtenaster to block the strike. She noticed Adam's sword glow slightly. _Right. That._

As Weiss recovered, Blake jumped into the fight, her own blade meeting her former partner's. They continued their deadly dance, both looking for an opening as they slashed and parried at each other. Just like old times, except back then they were training to fight a common enemy and not trying their hardest to kill each other.

Although Blake had been practising, Adam had been, too. He was older, bigger, more experienced, and more ruthless. Still, she had her own tricks. She managed to get in two good hits with her blade and a few with bullets before Adam found an opportunity. He fired his gun repeatedly, disorienting his opponent, before slashing with his sword and sending her flying across the roof.

Weiss gritted her teeth, frustrated. She couldn't get a decent hit on Adam without risking hitting Blake. When Adam managed to get a hit on Blake, she angrily selected freeze dust and drove Myrtenaster into the surface of the roof, sending a line of ice toward him. It slowed the terrorist for a moment before he broke out of the ice. His blade, his mask, and his clothes were glowing brighter than before as he switched targets.

"Oh, come on!" Weiss shouted. She rolled to the left, blocking Adam's blow with her sword. She twisted and brought it up for another strike. She swung hard into thin air.

The bull faunus saw his opening and took it. He struck the former heiress square-on, sending her flying into a ventilation unit. Adam kicked her sword one way, her gun the other. He smirked as he raised his glowing blade.

"Adam, there's one thing you should know before you kill me," Weiss stalled, her eyes darting back and forth looking for a way out. "I'm doing your ex."

If she hadn't been too busy trying to get a bead on Adam, Blake would have driven her palm firmly into her forehead.

Adam blinked before snarling and bringing the blade down. It cleaved not through flesh but through the ventilation unit. Weiss rolled to the side, grabbing her sword, flicking it to fire dust and channelling as much Aura as she could into it as she drew it across Adam's legs.

He grunted in pain, dropping the sword and collapsing to the ground as the gaping wounds began to bleed. He turned, trying to bring up his gun. Weiss kicked it out of his hands and drove her blade through his stomach with both hands, pinning him to the roof.

"Weiss," Blake called, tossing the girl's heavy pistol over.

She caught the weapon and cocked the hammer, aiming it at Adam's head. Her finger tensed on the trigger.

"Go ahead, Schnee," Adam taunted. "Do it. Your death will be painful either way. Have the satisfaction while you still can."

"Weiss, you can't," Blake protested. "If you kill him, this will never end."

The former heiress sighed. "Fuck it."

* * *

A few quick notes on this chapter and the previous one. LCol Schultz didn't do anything personally to piss off the White Fang, but the USAF has been cooperating with the Vale military to bomb them. This was intended to be an entire arc at one point but ended up cut. I thought I'd experiment with anachronic order (again), but judging from the feedback it didn't work out terribly well. And yes, I know the final battle is a bit anticlimactic but I'm not very good at writing RWBY-style fights.


	23. Defanged IV

Parts of this chapter were conceptualized and even written before certain IRL events. Others were changed because of them. I had more in mind for this but couldn't get it to flow nicely.

I thought I posted this about a week ago, but it looks like it made it to Spacebattles but not here.

* * *

 **D** **efanged** **IV**

Blake sighed as she strode away from the ruined conference centre. Her hand strayed toward Weiss's and she pulled it away, frustrated at the lack of contact they were allowed in public. Behind them, police officers swarmed the building.

A paramedic timidly approached the duo. Weiss waved him off, holstering her pistol as she went. "I should've just shot him."

"And how were you planning to explain that to the police?" Blake asked sarcastically.

"A Schnee and a dead faunus terrorist," she mused in reply. "Do you really think they would have sided with him?"

"No." She turned serious. "And that's the problem. It would have spawned ten more like him."

"Yeah, I know, but I still should have shot him," Weiss repeated, only half-joking. "He's an asshole."

"That's true."

She shrugged. "Maybe I could've just blown his kneecaps out."

"Weiss!"

"What's bothering you?"

"It's just... you're really cavalier about this," Blake complained unconvincingly.

Weiss immediately called her on it. "Didn't you shoot a raider in the back of the head on our last mission?"

"It's not the killing part. It's just... I had a message I really wanted to deliver," Blake admitted to her, struggling to find the words. "Now it's more important than ever, and it's been stopped by... this. It makes it worse, even."

Weiss stopped, putting a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder. It was an awkward action considering the height difference. "So, let's do it. I can get you-"

They were interrupted by a red blur that stopped just short of "We came as soon as we could. What happened?" Ruby asked quickly. "Oh my god, Weiss, is that blood?"

"Relax, it's not mine," Weiss told her partner, glancing briefly down at Myrtenaster. Damn, she'd have to get it cleaned. And her jacket, her dress, her gloves, her boots, now that she thought about it. Might as well just burn the whole outfit and start over. "Is that just me, or are you getting a little squeamish lately?"

"I just don't want to see my friends get hurt," Ruby admitted. "You are okay, aren't you."

"They're fine, Rubes," a new arrival interrupted, breathing heavily. Yang explained, "They wouldn't let me take Bumblebee past the outer cordon."

"Ruby, we're fine," Blake said firmly. "Let's just get out of here."

 _Why_ , Blake asked herself, _did these situations make her so nervous_? Fighting enemies old and new, no problem. Speaking when people were watching, problem. She took a deep breath and forced herself to appear calm.

"I'm here because we can't let terrorism win. I believe my message is important, and I'm not going to let them stop me from delivering it," Blake said carefully to the anchorman, or rather the camera situated behind him. "So, this is the rest of it."

"We like to think of terrorism on Earth and terrorism on Remnant as two separate, very different problems. But they aren't. We already saw the White Fang on Earth, and because of it the Americans have joined the fight against them. We joined together to crush ISIS, and yet some of them escaped across the portal. Terrorism is terrorism. If the efforts in Syria fail, or if the borders open up, this crossover potential is going to get worse. A lot worse. We're in this together whether we like it or not."

"The best way to stop terror is at the source. The White Fang has legitimate complaints. That's something I'll never back down on. The only way to truly stop terror is to prevent radicalization. And to prevent radicalization, we need to look at why people are becoming radicalized and change that. Whether that's Islamophobia in Europe or discrimination against Faunus in Vale. Bombing outposts and arresting cells won't stop more from rising.

"It's very complicated in the specifics, but we can boil it down. To end terror, we need to end hate."


	24. Edge I

And now for something completely different. May be almost an ascended Aside, but I'll probably interleave this arc with Run and possibly Return as well.

 **E** **dge I**

"You're not in Kansas anymore."

The familiar words rang true for the Marines formed up beside a crude runway on an unfamiliar world. Behind them, the C-130J Hercules they had arrived on began spooling up its engines in preparation for takeoff, their loud thrum echoing across the hard surfaces of the joint base. A CH-148 Cyclone circled in formation behind a Royal Vale Army Bullhead, waiting for the Herc to take off before they would come in to land.

Rift Station was still very much a work in progress. Eventually, it would be a gateway between worlds for any and all travellers, but as of 2017 it was more of a barrier. The road from Abbotsford was nearly complete, but the one leading to Vale had barely begun construction. The clearcutting operation was complete, but the walls that would define the outer perimeter of the base were not, with only a reinforced fence separating them from the outside world in some places.

The muffled boom of a detonating landmine reminded them that they stood on an island of protected civilization in a sea of deadly wilderness. When it was completed, Rift Station would be protected by a towering concrete wall and defended by batteries of artillery, missiles, machine guns and automatic cannon. The wall was perhaps seventy percent complete, but few of the stationary weapons emplacements were installed. Tanks, attack helicopters, mechs and hunters patrolled the perimeter of the joint installation, supplemented by a battery of howitzers and a number of sandbagged dugouts manned by infantry.

The base was built with the portal running down the middle, although it was mostly on the Remnan side. That was a surprising decision to many observers. A smaller Remnan section would be easier to defend. Unfortunately, geography and politics disagreed, and a huge swath of Valic forest was flattened and the base built inside.

Prefabricated buildings lined the inner part of the compound. They were crude affairs, mostly ugly grey structures jutting out of the ground linked by snaking cables and pipes. It was envisioned that someday, businesses and embassies would line the compound. For the time being, it was solely a military facility, manned by a joint Atlas-Vale-NATO force.

As he trudged toward the corrugated steel barracks that would be his home for the next eight months, Lance Corporal Hugh Bowman muttered to himself, "No shit."

* * *

"I can't believe we had to sit through another three-hour briefing," Private First Class Frederick Tate moaned, staring into the flat-screen TV with Xbox controller in hand. "I just wanna shoot some Grimm. I'm on another planet and the only fucking action I can get is in fucking Call of Duty."

"I didn't sign up to shoot Grimm," another Marine, Davison, muttered under his breath.

"Did anyone ever tell you you're a complete psycho?" Bowman asked, momentarily taking his attention off the game. His corner of the screen turned blood-red as the other Davison laughed. "Damn it!"

Davison grinned. "Got you, you dumb cracker!"

With a light clunk, the door to the ATCO trailer designated as a common room swung open.

Tate was the first to notice. He nearly dropped his controller when he turned around for a look. " _Damn_."

"Excuse me," a feminine voice with a slight British-sounding accent asked, turning almost every head in the room. Standing at the entrance was a tall, slim woman wearing a pale blue outfit with deeper blue boots and gloves and a thin silver breastplate. Long, sea blue hair cascaded down her back in a loose ponytail. What looked like a large rifle with a massive blade was anchored to her back.

"Yo, Fred, I think you're drooling a bit," Davison hissed, slapping his friend on the back.

"I'm _so_ gonna hit that."

"You are _not_ gonna hit that," Davison growled. He quickly paused their game before turning to the new arrival. "Can I help you, miss?"

"I'm Gina Cielfort, one of the huntresses assigned to Rift Station. I was hoping to meet with the new arrivals," she stated formally. Her cyan eyes darted around the room. "But I see you're busy. I'll come back later."

The fourth player, a beast of a man who rarely talked and was generally known as the Lump, quietly unpaused the game, and they resumed their round of deathmatch.

Tate waited a few seconds before blurting out, "She totally had fuck-me eyes, you know"

"She did _not_ have fuck-me eyes," Bowman replied. He gently guided his character around a corner on screen. "Not even close. Besides, remember what they said about fraternizing with the locals?"

Tate motioned with one hand. "Dude, did you see that? There's fives and tens and then there's worth going to jail for."

Davison laughed. "They're gonna put your ass in front of a firing squad."

"First, I'm right here," Gina interrupted, appearing right behind them. Her tone was serious, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Second, I'm not deaf. Third, I do not have fuck-me eyes- whatever those are- and fourth, I have a shotgun."

Tate jumped, startled. When he was distracted, Bowman took the opportunity to unload a magazine from his virtual UMP into Tate's avatar. He glanced at the screen. "Damn it to hell!"

"Shit!"

"Damn it!"

"Okay, vas Neema, how the hell did you do that?" the Lump asked.

The reference flew over the other players' heads. Davison mouthed to Bowman, "What?" He received only a shrug in response.

"It's my Semblance," she stated. "I can make myself invisible-"

"You're the invisible girl," Tate blurted out. "That's awesome!"

Gina huffed. "Invisible _woman,_ thank you very much. I've been a full huntress for almost five years now."

The Marines broke into laughter. The Lump pointed out, "Just like the Fantistic Four."

"Fuck the Fantastic Four!" Davison snapped jokingly.

"Hey, man, that was uncalled for," Bowman mock-chided. "Fantastic Four was great. I must have spanked-"

"Dude, come on, there's a lady present," Tate reminded him.

"So you care now, mister fuck-me eyes?" He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and you're dead. Again."

Tate threw the controller down. "Oh, come on!"

Gina leaned down- no doubt catching the attention of a few Marines- and picked up the controller. She turned it over in her hands. "Is this part of how you train?"

The Marines broke into laughter again. From the corner, a shirtless Marine called, "Training? That's Infinite Warfare."

"I'm sorry, I have no idea what that is," Gina excused, staring at the screen. She hazarded a guess. "This is a game? The graphics are very good for a game."

"Came out just last year," the Lump told her. "Not that great, though. You should see Battlefield 1."

"Why the fuck don't we have Battlefield 1?" Bowman inquired.

"Beats me," Tate said, standing. "That was all here when we got here."

"Really? It's not your shit?"

"Yeah. You didn't know that?"

Gina stepped around the couch and sat down, taking Tate's former spot. "How do I play?"

* * *

Maybe I use video games too much, being a gamer and all, but Marines loving games is a well-documented phenomenon. And maybe there are other problems with this chapter. Hooray for more badly-written romance!


	25. Edge II

I'll probably stick with the shorter chapters and more of them format for Edge. Yes, I know the radio calls are wrong. Also, finished V4 finally. Was disappointingly meh.

 **E** **dge I** **I**

"Linebacker, Lancer. You've got 'em. Fire for effect, over."

"Lancer, copy. Shot over, firing for effect."

Within the high walls of Rift Station, a battery of M109A7 Paladin self-propelled guns swivelled their turrets and elevated their guns on computer control. They fired in sequence, sending a dozen 155mm high explosive shells into the air with loud bangs and flashes that lit up half the base.

Seconds later, the shells landed, lighting up the ragged red edge of Forever Fall against the night sky. Plumes of brown dirt and blackened vegetation erupted into the air. By the time the barrage had ended, a football field sized section of forest had been reduced to a cratered pile of dirt and debris.

"Kaboom," Private First Class Tate whispered. He sat in an unfinished turret ring atop a rounded concrete structure, with Lance Corporal Bowman and PFC Davison beside him. It offered an excellent view of the clear-cut minefield and the forests of Vale beyond, though in the moonlight they couldn't make much out unaided.

"Why are we even here?" Lance Corporal Bowman complained after a pause. "I mean, there's tanks down there, artillery behind us, a guard tower thirty feet over there. Right?"

"Beats me," Tate said with a shrug. "I went infantry to avoid the pointless shit. If I knew we were going to be sitting in an unfinished turret ring watching mines go off I would have gone POG."

After a pause, Bowman mentioned, "It _is_ a kickass view, though."

"Yeah," Davison agreed.

Tate added, "And that was a pretty kickass explosion. We killed the shit out of that forest. Man, if those were Grimm they'd be bits and pieces right now."

"Yup."

The gentle clatter of footsteps behind them, audible over the idling engines of the vehicles below and the occasional spurt of gunfire in the background, announced the presence of another person. Bowman swung his rifle around at the intruder, lowering it after seeing who it was. "Damn it."

"I've got to go take a shit. You'll be fine with Invisible Girl watching your back, right?" Davison said quietly, standing up. He gave the new arrival a quick nod. "Ma'am."

"Please, call me Gina," the huntress insisted, her cyan eyes darting between them. She wore a long ultramarine coat over her outfit, presumably against the night's chill.

"All yours, Bowman," Tate whispered, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

"I will break your fucking arms, Tate," Bowman spat as the other Marines walked away, chuckling quietly. He turned to Gina and shrugged apathetically. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine," Gina excused, sitting down in the turret ring beside him. "I find it fascinating, actually."

"Fascinating? You find it _fascinating_?" the Lance Corporal questioned. "Okay, I've heard a lot of shit, but you find that... fascinating?"

"I've always been fascinated by cultures and how they interact," Gina admitted. "Almost went into anthropology."

He peered down his sight before leaning back and looking her in the eye. "Bullshit."

"Really," she reiterated defensively. "I didn't apply for this because I thought it would be easy or exciting, or even to kill Grimm. I want to learn about your world, and this is the closest I'm going to get."

"So what you're saying is that I'm your lab rat?" Bowman asked with half-mock, half-serious indignation.

"No!" she protested quickly. But then again, he wasn't wrong, was he? "Well, maybe. But I guess I'm yours, too."

"Goddamn perfect." He laughed before turning serious. "So, why the hell didn't you?"

"Go into anthropology?"

"Yeah. Let me guess, too boring? Wanted to kill shit instead instead of look at books all day or whatever anthropologists do? Some other cliched bullshit?"

Gina shook her head. She understood half of what the Marine said, though wasn't sure if he was trying to make a joke or if he was genuinely curious. _Terrans_. She indulged him. "Maybe, but I didn't think so. It's just that... look, when you have the gifts I do, you don't go and waste those. I'm not from a hunter family, exactly, but there are a few in the line and this time I was the one with the potential. So it was off to Beacon for me. I don't regret it." Her tone indicated that it wasn't completely true.

"Man, they told us it was some noble choice or some shit, that anyone with the right kind of heart could be a hunter," Bowman told her. "Buy hey, I'm not your goddamn guidance councillor. Why are you telling me this?"

Gina shrugged and offered a small smile.

He sighed. "So what, it's more like an obligation? You know... you gotta do what you gotta do. That kind of thing?"

"I mean, it's not like someone's going to send you to jail for making the wrong choice. But it's frowned upon, yes." She smiled sadly. "There's a lot about Remnans you don't know."

He laughed. "Yeah, well, I didn't believe the spiel either. A goddamn utopia on a death world, all great in every way that makes us look like shit. crystal spires and togas. I mean I don't want to shit on your civilization, but everyone's got problems, right?"

"Crystal spires and togas?"

Bowman didn't answer that, instead raising his rifle and sweeping the area in front of them through the thermal sight. He keyed his radio and reported, "Overwatch, Lancer One-Three, sector clear. Nothing new to report."

Gina raised an eyerbrow. "How can you tell? I mean, it's dark as hell, and unless you guys have some kind of night vision-" She paused. "This is where you're going to tell me there's a lot about Terrans I don't know, isn't it?"

"You mean you guys don't have NVGs?" Bowman asked. He added sarcastically, "You're telling me you're carrying some fucking folding shotgun thing with a giant-ass blade that by our understanding should just fall apart, and you don't have any fucking NVGs?"

Confused, she asked, "What?"

He took off his monocle and waved it front of her. "NVG. Night-vision gear."

"Huh, I've heard about those. But I thought those were high-end systems only used by your special forces. Not my words, by the way."

He nodded sagely. "Some countries, yeah. See, we're Americans, which means we have a system all built up to support the military-industrial complex. They make all kinds of shit, some of which we need, we buy it, people have jobs, everyone's happy. Or something."

"Hm." She didn't really understand "What about you? Why did you become a soldier?"

"Marine," Bowman corrected firmly. _So here's the catch_ _to the infodump._ _She wants my goddamn life story_.

She asked, confused, "I'm sorry?"

"The Army has soldiers. The Marines has Marines," he stated flatly.

"You're not all part of the Army?" Gina asked, curious. "I mean, we have the Royal Vale Army, and also the Air Force and Navy, but they're part of the Army."

Bowman shook his head. "No, it doesn't work like that for us. Some countries are like that, like, uh, China and Canada I think. There are five branches in the US military. The Army, the Air Force, the Navy and the Marines."

"That's four."

"We don't count the Coast Guard. Anyway, the branches are separate all the way up to the Joint Chiefs. Except for actually doing shit, a bunch of units are combined under a unified combatant command, which is a regional thing. Vale and Atlas fall under USNORTHCOM but I've heard they're going to create a separate Remnant command. And sometimes they put use together into task forces and shit, like we are here in Vale for." The whole thing was way out of his depth despite the extra classes, so he added a quick shrug and an "I think."

She nodded, parsing the information. "So you're a Marine, which is a completely separate, but everyone here is under the same commander?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he answered. "I mean, there's probably a few levels between that I forgot about, but I don't get paid enough for this kind of shit."

After a pause, the huntress reminded him, "You never answered the question. Why you joined. I know military service is voluntary and uncommon in your country."

"It's a bit of a long story," Bowman non-answered, trying hard to hide his discomfort. "But, one day, I eventually decided, fuck it, I'll join the Marines-"

"Bowman," a familiar voice called. He turned and saw Tate making his way down the wall toward them, Davison in tow. "You two done it yet?"

"Tate's an asshole, but, uh, he means well," the Lance Corporal excused for his friend.

"I should go," Gina excused, standing up. "I think I'm going to check out those big machines down there."

"Yeah, those guys _are_ soldiers, so they suck," he joked. "They got the new A3s, though, which is cool, so go bug the shit out of them and tell me all about it. Word of advice, though? Don't go invisible and pop out. They'll blow your head off."

She smiled. "I'll keep that in mind. It was nice meeting you, Bowman. Davison. Tate."


	26. Edge III

Yeah, this took a lot longer than I thought. It's a bit cut down and not great because holy shit it's a busy time right now.

 **E** **dge I** **I** **I**

"The Poles are coming in today," Bowman said to nobody in particular as he walked into the rec room and sat down in a folding chair.

"Like, scaffolding poles?" Tate asked, eyes glued to the TV.

"No, dumbass, the guys from Poland," Bowman corrected. "What's on TV?"

"Some shitty show about space miners. It's supposed to have tits, though _,_ " he answered absentmindedly. "We have cable now."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

"Hey, you joining the trip to Vale this weekend?" Bowman asked.

Tate shook his head. "Too many strings, man. The Canadians brought a bunch of beer from their side, so the barracks are gonna be wild tonight."

"Bullshit." He laughed, punching the PFC in the shoulder. "Come on, man. It's been almost a month, don't you want to see Vale?"

"Not particularly," Tate answered nonchalantly.

"Well, I came here to see Vale, I'm gonna see Vale," he countered indignantly.

"Suit yourself, mate," Tate replied with a shrug.

Bowman raised an eyebrow. "Did you just call me mate? You been spending too much time around those sketchy British guys or what?"

"Actually there's this Australian chick over in H&S or whatever they call their-"

Bowman punched him in the shoulder again. "Forget I asked. Catch you later, Tate."

* * *

The CH-47F sat on the tarmac, turboshaft engines idling and composite rotors turning as it waited for its passengers to board. To the soldiers and Marines waiting to board, it was practically routine. To the lone huntress among them, it seemed shockingly cavalier.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Gina shouted, instinctively ducking as the rotor wash pushed against her.

"Don't you run up to soulless monsters and hit them with swords?" Bowman asked from his position in line behind her.

"Yes, but that has nothing to do with this," she shot back. "This machine is a deathtrap! If we're attacked, the Grimm will punch right through its thin skin. It's full of chemical fuel that's going to burn us to death in a crash. That's if the blades don't go flying off and impale someone first."

"Are you afraid of flying?" he asked, laughing.

"I'm not afraid of flying, I'm just, you know, kinda nervous about _this_ ," Gina corrected as she stepped aboard. "Oh god, it feels like it's going to come apart and we haven't even taken off yet."

Bowman laughed again, taking a seat behind her. "Well, you know, this is the only way out of here on the Remnant side, so take it or leave it."

"Actually, I could have taken the shuttle," she corrected awkwardly as she strapped in. At least the harness was familiar. "It's a nice airship that runs from Beacon to Rift to Vale in a circle three times a week. But this is supposed to be faster, and I really wanted to see how you guys flew."

After a moment's pause, Bowman told her, "I'd have taken the shuttle."

She agreed, "Yeah, I'm already beginning to regret this decision."

* * *

"Conveyor One, Overwatch," a voice chirped over the pilot's headset as they cut their way through the morning air. "Be advised, Nevermores are entering your sector from the northeast. Recommend extreme caution."

"Already see 'em," he replied calmly, spotting the black shapes to their right. "Where's our fighter cover, Overwatch?"

"Uh, standby."

"You've got to be kidding me," the copilot muttered. Outside the aircraft, the flying monsters circled around onto a vector straight toward them.

"Shit, they're coming for us!" the pilot shouted. "Get us our fighter cover, Overwatch! Dennis, light 'em up!"

* * *

Of course, the passengers aboard the Chinook were blissfully ignorant of the situation developing until it was upon them.

"Brace for evasive manoeuvres!" someone shouted. Gina gripped her seat hard and closed her eyes. Beside her, Bowman let out something between a groan and a sigh. The grating sound of a rotary cannon reverberated through the cabin as the starboard gunner opened fire on the intruders.

The pilot jerked hard on the cyclic, putting the Chinook into a hard right bank. It wasn't part of normal operations, but the Chinook was a tough machine designed to fly into combat zone. It was actually a manoeuvre meant to evade surface-to-air missiles, but it was what he was trained for and defaulted to. He twisted the stick the other way, pulling the helicopter back over.

Unfortunately, luck was not on their side that day. Inside the port engine, a Lycoming T55 turboshaft, a cracked oil feed tube in the centre of the engine shattered. The burst of flammable oil caught fire, destroying the first stage turbine, overheating the bearings and driving the spool into overspeed. A plume of fire exploded out the rear of the engine along with a cloud of destroyed parts, and it ceased producing power within seconds.

Normally, the Chinook could fly on one engine. But in a tight manoeuvre, the remaining engine couldn't keep up even above its normal maximum power. The helicopter slipped sideways toward the ground and began to spin.

"Everyone hold on!" the pilot shouted, desperately trying to regain control. "Come on, come on..."

Bowman complied with the instruction, He'd been trained- briefly- on what to do in these circumstances, but his training failed him. He screwed his eyes shut as the Chinook spun out of control, the motion making him lightheaded and dizzy. The helicopter shook violently as it crashed through the forest canopy. A tremendous crash and bone-shattering impact announced their impact with the ground.

And then, blackness.

* * *

He awoke to a strange noise, like a snapping- was someone snapping their fingers? Did he get too drunk on the barracks last night? No, that wasn't it at all. He forced his eyes open. He was sitting in a forest, against a tree beside a rough trench, with a bunch of debris on the ground and everything hurt like hell.

"God damn it."

"Bowman, you're awake," Gina remarked, kneeling down beside him. Worry wavered through her voice. "You had me worried for a while there."

"What the _fuck_ happened?"

"When we hit the trees, I guess the tail came off. We were thrown out with a bunch of other stuff," she answered, then pointed to a column of smoke. "The rest of the helicopter is over the ridge. On fire."

"Anyone else make it out?"

"I... I don't think so. There was a body in the tail beside us."

Bowman closed his eyes. He'd counted just under thirty people boarding the helicopter. Most of them were Canadian Forces or US Army, but a few of them were Marines. Some of them he probably knew.

"Hey," the huntress called. She snapped her fingers again. "Don't slip away on me, Bowman!"

"Wasn't planning to," he replied. Leaning against the tree, he attempted to stand up. Waves of pain through his left leg sent him back to the ground. "Damn it!"

"Your leg is broken. Compound fracture." Gina commented, voice calmer than she felt. Bowman noticed that her dark blue gloves were stained a deep red. What looked like a BDU sleeve was wrapped around his leg, and it was stained the same colour. She added quietly, "I've never seen so much blood."

"Yeah, one thing about Terrans is that we do that," the Marine remarked wryly. He paused. "You know, you were right."

She sat down beside him and asked, "About?"

"That thing _is_ a fucking deathtrap."

"Well, we weren't expecting a Nevermore attack," the huntress admitted. "Mechanical failure, maybe."

"Should have, though," Bowman remarked darkly. "God, the first time we have liberty this side of the rift, and the Chair Force sends it all to hell in a handbasket. Figures, right?"

"Right," she replied, unsure. "Do you think they'll send rescue?"

"For sure," Bowman replied confidently. "We've just got to hold on until then. In a forest full of soulless monsters with more above our heads. Should be a piece of cake, right?"

"Yeah." Gina stood up and picked up a large gun leaning against the tree, handing it to Bowman. "Can you use this?"

"Sure." He took the weapon and examined it. It was an M240 general purpose machine gun... where did they have M240s aboard? Wait, it couldn't be- it was! "How did you get the ramp machine gun off the ramp?"

Gina blinked, confused. "I grabbed and pulled."

"Super strength?"

"No, it kinda just fell off."

He lifted the feed cover, slammed it back down, and racked the charging handle. "Well, I guess it could be worse. They could have shipped my ass to that fucking mess in the Mideast."

"I don't pretend to understand that, but, yeah, it could be worse," Gina half-agreed. She pointed toward a grey mass on the other side of the trench. "Are you going to be okay for a moment? "

"Cleared hot." He gave a thumbs-up. "Look for flares, a radio, any guns and ammo. Maybe something to eat, too, I'm hungry."

She nodded. "Way ahead of you, Bowman."

* * *

Lance Corporal Hugh Bowman leaned against the tree, pondering life, the universe, and everything.

He could hear the Grimm prowling. Or, at least, thought he could hear them. Maybe he was delusional. He was pretty sure the Nevermores circling above were real. Sooner or later they'd come for him.

Well, if he was going to die, at least it would be beside a pretty girl. And yeah, he admitted to himself, Gina was pretty. Maybe not model quality, but she had a ruggedness and a reality that the plastic-faced girls on the cover lacked. Not that he was falling for an alien, of course.

But there were worse ways to go. If she ever came back, that was. Maybe he'd die alone-

"Bowman! Bowman!" the voice in question shouted from the trees. It was accompanied by the sound of crashing through the bush followed by a muffled curse. "I think they know we're here!"

"The Grimm?"

"Yeah!" Her answer was cut off by the report of her shotgun.

"Shit." Bowman raised his borrowed machine gun, bracing himself against the tree. He'd give them a fight, even if it was a shitty one.

Gina came crashing out of the treeline, three Beowolves hot on her heels. She pivoted and fired her massive shotgun at point blank into the lead beast. Black viscera erupted from its skull, and it fell to the ground, already dissipating into smoke.

Bowman aimed for the one behind it and opened fire. He'd fired a similar GPMG in training, tearing apart a (simulated) wall and the (simulated) enemies inside. This time, the effect on target was disappointing. The 7.62mm rounds seemed to sink into the beast with no apparent effect other than angering it. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

The huntress offered no response, totally focused on the battle. She swung her shotgun around, bringing the butt down on the beast's head before flipping it and driving the blade through its skull. It dropped quickly, but the third and last Beowolf charged forward to take its place. Gina dove out of the way, firing two shots at its delicate underbelly.

"Oh, _fuck_." The Beowolf stumbled slightly before continuing its charge, not at Gina but toward Bowman. He threw himself out of the way, entire body screaming in protest. The beast crashed into the tree, cracking it in two. He opened fire on the dazed monster, pumping bullets into its flank.

Gina bolted forward, shotgun up and at the ready. She flipped a lever with her left hand, switching from dust-infused buckshot to high-velocity saboted slugs. She pulsed the trigger, sending three rounds downrange and into the Beowolf. It stumbled again before crashing to the ground.

The huntress scanned for threats one last time before rushing to the Marine's side. "Bowman, are you okay?"

"I'll live," he answered deadpan, tossing the machine gun aside and rolling to a slightly less painful position. "Probably."

"That's just the start," Gina admitted, briefly checking over her weapon. "There'll be more. I think that now they-"

Bowman held up a finger for silence. "Hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Jet engines at high altitude," he answered, taking a moment to figure out what the sound was. "You have flares?"

"I think so." Gina reached into the pouch fastened at her waist and dug out a thick pen-shaped device. With a loud pop, a blindingly bright flare flew out and buried itself in the ground below her. She jumped back in surprise.

Bowman glared at her. "Please tell me that wasn't our only flare."

She didn't answer, but seconds later, a bright red flare screamed into the sky ahead of them.

"I'll take that as a no."

They watched as the Nevermores circling above suddenly exploded, their remains raining down on the forest below. Seconds later, a quartet of jets screamed by, their sonic booms reverberating through them.

"Think they saw us?" Gina asked. "I have one more flare."

Bowman shook his head. "Wait until we hear helicopters."

She pointed up at a thin shape with whirling blades heading toward them. "Like that one?"

"Yeah. Looks like one of ours," Bowman confirmed. "If you've got 'em, light 'em."

"Do you mean I should fire the flare?"

He managed a laugh. "Not exactly, but yeah, shoot it."

The huntress obliged, sending another bright red flare into the sky. The aircraft above them turned abruptly, arcing around and heading for their location. Above it, the fighters circled around again, dropping several nearly invisible objects and one larger one. Ahead of them, the forest exploded.

Gina jumped. "Are they bombing us?"

Bowman shook his head. "Suppressing Grimm."

The aircraft- now visible as a V-22 Osprey tiltrotor- descended rapidly into a hover above them. Several lines were dropped to the ground, and seconds later a group of heavily-armed Marines descended to the ground.

"Secure the area!" one of them shouted. The Marines dispersed, forming a defensive perimeter. Bowman noticed several of them were carrying M30 grenade launchers or AT4 rocket launchers. One of them- a Navy Corpsman, actually- immediately rushed to Bowman's side, checking him over.

"Oh god, you're going to bring out the silver bullet, aren't you?" the Marine quipped. Probably not the smartest idea, he realized _after_ saying it.

The corpsman glared at him in response. He turned to his superior. "He'll live, but he's not walking anywhere, sir."

"What about the rest of the helicopter?" Gina asked him.

The lead Marine shook his head. "No signs of life."

"That thing can't land here, can it?"

"No. We dropped a clearing charge two miles north of here, that's our LZ," he answered. "We'll have to leg it from here."

"I've got Bowman," Gina stated before anyone could protest. She dragged him up- eliciting a few winces of pain in the process- and onto her shoulders in what would be known to Terrans as a fireman's carry.

"I have extremely mixed feelings about this," Bowman remarked from his new position atop the huntress's shoulders.

The lead Marine- a Lieutenant, by the looks of it- signalled with one hand. "Let's move."

The journey north was surprisingly quiet, punctuated only by the occasional not-so-distant explosion.

Halfway, Gina asked about that.

"Drones," Bowman muttered from on top of her. "Cleaning things up for us."

She had to admit to herself, it was kind of anticlimactic. She was expecting an intense run to their extraction, surrounded by Grimm on all sides. Having a sniper in the sky clearing the way might have been convenient, but it was boring. Terrans certainly weren't ones for theatrics, she supposed.

As they approached the waiting Osprey, Gina asked the Marine beside her, "You know, we're pretty close to Beacon. I'm surprised they didn't dispatch hunters from there. Or either hunters or the army from Vale."

"It almost happened," the Marine answered with a shrug. "I guess the brass figured we should fix our own mistakes. Above my paygrade, ma'am."

The lead Marine motioned for Gina to go ahead with Bowman and board the waiting Osprey. The rotors were well forward of the rear ramp, but she ducked slightly when she felt their wash anyway. Hopefully, this machine wouldn't go down like the last one.

Next time, she _was_ taking the shuttle.

"I owe you," Bowman mentioned as the huntress put him down near the front of the aircraft.

"How about a drink?" Gina suggested. Behind them, the rest of the Marines boarded and the ramp raised behind them. Over the whine of the rapidly accelerating engines, she added, "If we ever make it to Vale."


	27. Edge IV

Finishing up Edge. Poorly. Next up is Return.

 **E** **dge** **IV**

"I hate these fucking things," Bowman muttered to nobody in particular as he unclipped his seat belt and stood up in the back of the helicopter. The trip had been uneventful, as it generally was, but put the Marine on edge from the very beginning.

"Hey, we got here, didn't we?" Tate told him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I told you, usually the helicopter doesn't crash."

He shook his head, stepping down the ramp. "Come on, man, that was months ago."

A familiar figure waved at him from the edge of the oversized berth. "Bowman! You made it!"

He chuckled as he made his way toward the huntress. "I did say I'd make it to Vale some time, didn't I?"

In response, Gina raised an eyebrow. "Did you?"

"I think so." He shrugged. "Maybe _you_ did. I don't know. I mean, you're here, aren't you?"

"I am," She motioned toward the gate leading to street level. A pair of civilian guards nodded at them as they passed. "Come on. I know just the place."

They headed out into the middle of the attached parking lot. It was relatively small, and contained an eclectic mix of modern and archaic looking vehicles. Gina led him toward a short, pointy blue sports car. It looked like it was built for speed, from its smooth lines to its oversized exhaust pipes.

Bowman nodded with approval. "That's yours?"

"That's mine all right. Purrs like a kitten," Gina answered proudly. "But... I'm probably going to sell it."

"Why? A sweet-ass ride like that?"

She merely shrugged, unlocking the doors and climbing inside.

* * *

"Pretty nice place," Hugh Bowman commented as the waiter set down their appetizers, a bowl of tomato soup for him and a Mistralian salad for the huntress across from him.

"Don't worry, it's on me," Gina assured him, taking a bite of her salad. "The Rift job pays more than you'd think. It's not why I took it, but it doesn't hurt."

"So, is this..." Bowman began, stirring his soup.

"It's not a date," Gina replied quickly. "Just two friends and coworkers having dinner in the city."

"Right."

"Yup."

"This soup is really good," Bowman commented, deflecting the conversation. He spooned another spoonful into his mouth, the metal spoon clanking deafeningly against the glass bowl in the silence.

They continued to eat awkwardly, before Gina blurted out, "You got someone at home, Bowman?"

He shook his head. "Not right now. I did a few months ago, but you know, it never works out through a deployment."

"Where _is_ home for you?" the huntress asked. "I know you're American, and that's how I've always thought of you, but your country's big and you have some regional stuff going on, don't you?"

"Last few years I've been in Virginia, but I was born in North Carolina," he answered. "Southeastern United States. That'll always be home for me. What about you?"

She shrugged. "Vale. The city, the kingdom, it's pretty much one and the same for us."

"Can't say it's the same for us. It's a little weird thinking about, but I guess that works," Bowman responded. He finished his soup, tossed the spoon in the bowl and asked, "What about you? You have a special someone here?"

She shook her head ruefully. "Broke up with my girlfriend of four years about a month before taking the job at Rift. Had a few flings since, but nothing that lasted and nothing right now."

"So, you're-"

"By your definitions, I would be bisexual," she answered frankly. "You aren't one of those people who has a problem with that, are you?"

"You know, a lot of people where I come from- even my parents- would," he answered after a pause. "Personally, though, no. I always thought it was pretty stupid."

She nodded before impulsively saying, "Hey. Let's go see the ocean after this. I know a great spot."

* * *

The spot turned out to be a perch near the docks, close enough to smell the ocean and feel the salt air but not so close to be irritating. It was raised and offered a good view, yet was almost completely empty at the evening hour.

"Things sure have changed," Gina remarked quietly, observing the calm waters of the bay and the ships sailing along within it. She pointed at one in particular, a long vessel in military haze gray sporting twin funnels and three prominent turrets. Two trimarans, one flying the Stars and Stripes and the other flying the Crossed Axes, cruised alongside. "That's one of yours, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," Bowman confirmed. "That's the Wisconsin. She used to be a museum."

"Really?" the Huntress asked skeptically.

"The Wisky's old, really old," the Marine explained. "She was built for the Second World War. Turns out sixteen-inch guns are really good for killing Grimm."

Gina nodded, taking a moment to think. Then, suddenly, she said, "Eagle Lake."

"Sorry?"

"An Atlesian airship built for the Great War. Upgraded, rebuilt, shelved, but never truly retired," Gina answered. She leaned over the railing. "Believe it or not, there are a lot of people here that are as afraid of you as you are afraid of us. Another world out there we don't understand, one that outnumbers us and can wipe us out at a moment's notice even if they're weak and stupid."

"And what do you think?"

"I think they're a bunch of idiots," Gina replied, edging closer to Bowman. His body heat was pleasant against the night air. She cursed her decision to leave her jacket at Rift. "Yeah, it's scary, to a point. But we're not so different. There's so much we can give each other. Culture, philosophy, science, technology... love."

"Love?"

"Oh, to hell with it." In one smooth motion, Gina drew her arm around Bowman, slamming their bodies together and latching her lips to his. Time seemed to slow as they shared their passionate embrace, melting into each other. Then, they popped apart.

"Um."

"Wow."

They stood there, staring into each other's eyes, lost for words. Perhaps it was truly romantic. Perhaps they simply had no idea what they were doing.

"Well, this is awkward," Bowman eventually admitted. "Not that I didn't enjoy that, but..."

"You're leaving soon, aren't you?" Gina asked, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. My deployment here ends next week. I'll be back stateside soon," he admitted. "I'd like to come back, I really would. But that's not up to me."

"I understand," Gina responded, taking his hand in hers. "I guess I should admit I won't be around here much longer, either."

He stared at her. "What, are you dying-"

"No, nothing like that!" she corrected quickly. "I took a job on Earth. Consulting. It's not gonna have a lot of action, but I'll be living on your world for at least six months."

"You know, I should have expected you to do something like that," Bowman said, hiding a thin smile.

"It's what I've always wanted to do. And... if you ever find yourself in a place called Baltimore, drop me a line." She paused. "That's the expression, right?"

He laughed. "Yeah, it is. And I will."

"It was nice meeting you, Bowman."

"You too, Gina."

With that, they parted ways for the night. It was their first date. It would not be their last.

And, as they say, the rest is history.


	28. Return I

This should be an interesting arc, though I'm juggling a lot with it and there's a good chance I'll drop everything. Motivation running short and all that. I've already started on _Run_ , though, so there's that.

And yes, this was on SB first. No, it's not a change in policy, I simply forgot to crosspost.

* * *

 **Return I**

"This is not fair!" Qrow snapped, scanning the deserted square for his target. Noticing a barrel rattle and fall over, he rushed over to its position, switching his scythe into shotgun mode and let loose a few rounds in that direction.

A girl appeared seemingly out of thin air, stumbling once before continuing her run. She pulled out her weapon, a silver metal whip, and swung it, latching onto a gutter and pulling herself onto the clay rooftop.

"Come on!" The huntsman swung his weapon and pulled the trigger, using the impulse to launch himself onto the roof. He searched for his once-again-disappeared quarry. "Look, let's just make this easy, okay? Turn yourself over, and this won't get nasty."

The response came as a cable-like whip appearing swinging straight toward him. He bolted to the side, dodging easily and letting the whip rip half the tiles off the roof below him. "Alright, fine!"

Qrow switched his weapon back into sword mode, bolting forward toward the source of the whip and swinging wide in the blink of an eye. The tip of his weapon connected, turning the young woman visible again and sending her flying across the roof.

She recovered, scrambling upward and using her whip to climb up to the roof of the adjacent building, a significantly taller low-rise unit. Qrow sighed and switched his weapon back onto gun mode, bringing it around and firing into the roof below, obliterating the tiles and the structure underneath as he launched himself upward.

He slammed into the cement surface of the rooftop, grinning wickedly as he lashed out with his foot and sent the girl flying. Her Aura shattered as she slammed painfully into the ledge at the edge of the roof, her weapon clattering across the roof in the opposite direction.

The huntsman dug into his jacket for a silver flask and took a drink. "You know, nobody every picks the easy way."

* * *

When the chameleon faunus came to, she found herself inside, sitting down in a sturdy metal chair. She experimentally flexed her wrists. They were bound, of course. She could slip out of them, of course. But not with the scythe-wielding huntsman standing against the wall watching her like a hawk.

"Welcome to Beacon, miss Amitola," the calm voice of Professor Ozpin greeted. "I'm sure you know who I am. And you've already met Qrow."

"That was a hell of a stunt you pulled," Qrow said, stepping away from the wall and glaring at her. "So, are you with the New Fang?"

"Try again," she spat in response.

"Al-Qaeda? No, definitely not them," Qrow suggested. "Mantle Nationalists? Remnant First?"

"I think you already know."

"The Grimm Queen," Ozpin stated quietly from his desk. "Through one of her agents, no doubt."

Qrow shared a look with him. "Yeah. I was just hoping it wasn't true."

The headmaster raised an eyebrow. "We know she has an interest in the Festival. Otherwise we never would have investigated Atlas in the first place."

The huntsman shook his head, then turned back to their silent guest. "Kid, what the hell are you doing working for her?"

"There aren't a lot of places for someone of my... talents. I had an opportunity and I took it," Amitola admitted cryptically. Anticipating his response, she added, "The New Fang? Please. The New Fang is a joke."

"Whoever it's for, this is very interesting stuff you stole." Pulling out his Scroll, Qrow flicked through a few pages of information. "Schedules, travel plans, security, all the juicy details about all the bigwigs who'll be watching the Festival. With this information and the right people, my, you could do a lot of damage with that."

Their captive smirked. "Oh, trust me, a _lot_ of damage."

"I'll bet. The Queen and the Chancellor. The Crown Prince of Vale. Siegfried Schnee- okay, that wouldn't be any great loss. The Secretary of State." The huntsman snapped his Scroll shut. "Question is, you gunning for all of them, or someone in particular?"

"The target is the Earther delegation," Ozpin surmised, fingers tented. "Create distrust, even a war between worlds. Sow the seeds of chaos. That is exactly how she operates."

"It's too late. You're insane if you think that's the only copy and I was the only one sent to steal it," Amitola repeated. "I don't know what's going to happen, but it's going to be big. Bigger than the attack on Vale."

Qrow leaned down and stared into her eyes. "Well, see, that's where you're wrong. Now we know. And now we're gonna stop it."


	29. Return II

Keep in mind that this arc is more setup than anything... and it's been pretty heavily trimmed.

* * *

 **Return II**

After very little deliberation, Ozpin had decided to send Qrow back to Atlas, with Glynda this time. Their role amounted to glorified guard duty. Glynda got to stand around and make sure nobody hijacked the tiltjet that would soon come in to pick up the Terran delegation. And he got to skulk around the landing site, watching for anything suspicious.

Just as he was about to admit defeat- though he had been at that point as soon as he arrived- he saw it. It was subtle, but you learned to tell from the little things. The man with the braided hair, Atlesian uniform aside, did _not_ belong. Qrow ignored the helicopter zooming in above them and followed the strange figure as he slipped between two buildings heading toward the site.

"Somehow I don't think you're really Atlesian," Qrow called, one hand on his sword.

The strange man did not reply, instead whirling around with what looked like a stinger out. The veteran huntsman ducked under the swing and bolted to the side, swinging his own blade into equally thin air.

He stepped back, surveying his surroundings. They were in a deserted street- well, it might have once been a street. It was part rubble, a section of the half-abandoned outskirts of Atlas that went back and forth between Atlesian and de facto Grimm territory. His opponent flicked his wrists, extending a set of blades, then charged forward once again.

Qrow engaged in a dance of violence with the stranger, their movements a blur to the untrained eye. He brought his sword around, his opponent blocked, one fired their weapon, the other blocked, the process repeated. One ducked to the side, the other went high, and they mirrored each others' movements.

The strange man flipped his stinger around, catching Qrow off-guard and sending him flying into a wrecked building. He recovered quickly, switching his sword into scythe mode and leaping back out on top of his opponent. He managed to get one strike in before the scorpion-man leapt out of the way once more.

They continued their dance, each looking for an opening, blocking strong strikes and landing quicker, weaker ones. The reports of their weapons echoed around the abandoned street, Aura flaring and gradually beginning to weaken.

Qrow leaned on his sword, breathing heavily. His opponent smirked and moved in for the kill, feinting with his wrist blades and bringing around his tail stinger. It was a trap. The move left him off-balance, and the huntsman took advantage of it, ducking down below the strike before kicking the man in the shins and sending him to the ground.

With a mighty shout, Qrow brought his blade around and down on his opponent's tail, severing the tip completely and sending him reeling in pain. The scorpion-man screamed and clutched his severed tip, scampering away and leaving a trail of dark blood in his wake.

The huntsman almost pursued him, but held his ground. While he really, really wanted to finish off the Queen's goon, his job was to keep the Earther delegation safe. The crazed man was out of commission, and she might have another surprise waiting. No, he was better off keeping a watchful eye over the landing pad as the Earthers waited for their ride.

Very soon, the tiltjet transport came in. He hoped Glynda did her- nah. She was nothing if not reliable. Sure enough, the tiltjet landed, the Earthers boarded, and it took off toward the Colosseum with nothing amiss.

"Any trouble?" a familiar voice asked from behind him.

He shook his head. "No. Felt way too easy, really."

Glynda chewed her lip for a moment. Finally, she muttered, "No, I think we did it. This time."

"That's always it," Qrow mused as he stowed his blade. "We've got to stop every plan. She only has to get it right once, and the world goes to hell."

* * *

"All clear," Agent Susan Barrett declared as the Atlesian tiltjet took off. She turned to her charge. "Five minutes to Amity Colosseum. Should be smooth sailing from here, sir."

"You sure it's all clear?" the Secretary of State asked skeptically from his seat. "Wasn't that gunfire we heard back there?"

"It's Remnant, sir," the agent reminded him. "Probably a hunter team keeping the Grimm away from the Festival."

"You know, I keep forgetting that this place is a warzone by our standards," the Secretary said after a moment's thought. He added lightly, "I'll bet their Festival puts the Super Bowl to shame, though."

She shrugged. "That's a pretty high bar, sir."

"They put on a good show," the Secretary replied. "I mean, a floating stadium, for Christ's sake. We couldn't even dream of building something like that. It's scary to see these guys on our doorstep, yet Strange times, Susan. Strange times."

"Yes, sir." With a firm bump, the tiltjet landed. One of the agents opened the side door and exited the craft, then two more.

"Clear," Agent Barrett declared. "Let's move, sir."

"Welcome to the 41st Vytal Festival," a recorded voice boomed over several sets of speakers as they deplaned and headed toward the Atlesian officials, ready to make pleasantries and officially kick off the games. "Hosted in Atlas, this year's theme is unity..."

* * *

Honestly, this arc was basically a waste of time. I guess I felt I had to fill the space, but really this didn't accomplish much. I was hoping to do some setup for future instalments at least, but since the future of Emergence is so in flux that didn't happen.


	30. Run I

And thus the penultimate arc begins. Really excited for this one. I've had it planned since Convergence.

 **R** **un I**

In a corner of the Schnee Manor, the former heiress of the company sat in a swivel chair in front of an expensive computer setup, a pile of pop cans accumulating in a bin by her feet. Her slender fingers deftly flew over the keyboard and slammed the mouse from one corner of the pad to the other, her cerulean eyes focused on the screen before her.

"What the fuck? Take mid, take mid! Damn it!" she shouted into her microphone, slamming her fist down on the heavy desk. "Hey, Bloone01, may your house be live on CNN!"

 _wtf_ _is that supposed to mean?_ one commenter asked, the text popping up in a window on her second monitor.

"It's a Bosnian curse that basically means _I hope NATO bombs your house_ ," Weiss explained with a breif glance at her webcam, not missing a beat. "I'm trying to be creative with my last game of League."

A stream of comments to the effect of "Why" and "no" popped up on her second monitor.

"Everyone is right-" Beside her microphone, Weiss's scroll buzzed. She silenced it. "Everyone is right about this game. It's total cancer, and I'm going back to the nice safe world of CSGO."

 _CSGO, safe_?

"Well, compared to-" Her scroll went off again. On screen, another comment popped up, this one from black_belladonnas. _Answer your scroll, Weiss_.

"Hold on." She picked up the offending device, checked the screen briefly and answered the call. "Damn it, Blake, I'm streaming, what do you want?"

"Oh, was this a bad time?" her familiar voice replied calmly- a forced calm, Weiss recognized. "I was just wondering if you had any idea why Tybalt started the fight in- you know what, forget it, I'll call back."

She cringed at the awkward reference, but inwardly her blood ran cold. All of their code phrases were from Romeo and Juliet, and _Tybalt_ meant something along the lines of _get out of there now_. She apologized to her audience, "Sorry, guys, I'm gonna have to cut this short." Then, she unceremoniously ended the stream by reaching behind her computer and pulling out the power cable.

Weiss dreaded this moment, but she had been prepared for it and had the process timed down to the second. Her sweatpants and t-shirt were thrown off and replaced with a much darker t-shirt and cargo pants. She grabbed her shoes- not her heeled combat wedges but a pair of flat boots with soft rubber soles- and pulled them on. Thirty seconds.

She tossed her scroll into one pocket, a nearly useless Terran-made phone into another and her wallet in a third. Getting her BitLocker drive and her coin drive mixed up would be an unmitigated disaster, so they were color-coded. The gold one she clipped to a lanyard around her neck, and the blue one she smashed under her heel. Her laptop and a portable backup drive went into her bug-out bag, a black backpack already prepared and shoved under her desk. Fifty seconds.

It was ten of her admittedly short paces across the room to the case where she stored her weapons. Snapdragon went on one hip immediately. Myrtenaster she flicked to shock dust, pointed at her expensive computer setup, and pulled the trigger, destroying its circuits instantly. One minute, five seconds. It probably would have been a better plan to grab weapons first, she reflected, but then again she'd hoped to never actually carry it out.

There was one more thing, hidden under her bed. She hesitated for a moment before grabbing the black rifle, inserting a magazine and cocking it. She was already conspicuous, and the code was _Tybalt_ , after all. Unless Blake had been overreacting- it wasn't a mistake, was it? No, Blake wouldn't do that- then that meant she was minutes away from goons kicking her door in and dragging her out. Talking her way out of this was not on the table.

Weiss had her escape route planned out, along with backups, contingencies, and alternate routes, just in case. She left her room and headed left down the deserted hallway. Her ultimate destination was a large window in a reading room situated dangerously close to the outer fence. Her preferred route was across the third floor, down a servant staircase, through the kitchens and up the serving elevator access shaft.

Hearing a set of footsteps, Weiss leaned around the corner instead of bolting out past it. Two people, dressed in drab grey, faces covered by dark helmets, marched down the hallway toward her. They cradled large rifles- Atlesian military surplus, by the looks of it- in their arms. " _Fuck_."

"Think she knows we're coming?" the lead thug- she couldn't help but think of him as a thug- said to his partner.

"Nah," his companion, a noticably shorter woman, said dismissively. "She'll be plugged in, playing Game of Thrones or whatever. It'll be as easy as shooting fish in a barrel."

"What?"

"Nevermind."

Having heard enough, Weiss backpedalled, leaning against the wall and briefly considered her options. Whoever these people were, they clearly weren't here to make nice. She rounded the corner, raised her rifle, focused her Aura, and pulled the trigger.

A series of cracks, muffled by a baffled suppressor, echoed through the hallway. The thug dropped to the ground, Aura gone and a few bullet holes in his torso. She unleashed the rest of her magazine on the other, dropping her before bolting past both of them. With a flick of her hand, she sealed a heavy wooden door behind her and locked it with a glyph.

Weiss could hear more coming from the same direction. Instead of going left as she planned to, she bore to the right toward her alternate route.

* * *

Quietly, Weiss dropped to the floor after checking the hallway for opposition and finding none. She'd lost her tail, at least for the time being. Darting through the old servant passages was a trick she'd learned from Blake- okay, that was a lie, she learned it from Skyrim. Nonetheless, one of her alternate routes snaked its way through the disused corridors, and she hadn't encountered anyone on the way. Unfortunately, they didn't quite reach her destination, requiring a non-ideal dart down a staircase and across a first-floor atrium.

She raised her rifle again as a set of quick footsteps emerged from behind a side door. Weiss breathed a sigh of relief when the source of the sound stepped into the hallway. She slung her rifle, keeping one hand on the hilt of her sword.

"Weiss?" Winter asked, confused.

"Winter." Weiss replied coldly.

"What are you doing?"

She bolted forward, grappling Winter with one arm and drawing Myrtenaster's blade lightly across her throat. She whispered, "You know exactly what I'm doing. Let's put on a good show, shall we?"

"Gladly." The younger sister stomped hard on her older sister's foot, twisting out of her grip as she recoiled. She drew Aurum and Argentum, opening fire with the twin pistols as she strafed away from her sister.

Weiss threw up a glyph to shield herself from the bullets, drawing Snapdragon with her off hand and letting loose a few rounds toward Winter. The first two missed- on purpose- but the third connected, sending the younger girl stumbling.

She recovered quickly, kicking a planter toward Weiss and opening fire again. Weiss dodged the flying planter, then went on the defensive as Winter bolted forward. She blocked her sister's strikes, wincing as she snuck in a few half-hearted bullets that pinged against her Aura. Then, seeing an opening, she swung Myrtenaster sideways sending Winter flying into the wall. She quickly switched to freeze Dust and unleashed a blast that froze Winter to the wall.

"I'm sorry," Weiss apologized weakly, bolting down the hallway. It was a good show indeed for the cameras that were no doubt observing, but she had lost time that she now had to make up.

At the end of the hallway, she turned right and threw open an old set of double doors, emerging into the atrium. The second-floor hallway continues onward on the other side, with a grand staircase leading into an open area below.

"Hey, stop!" a masked woman yelled from the other side, raising her weapon. Weiss ignored her, darting down the staircase as bullets slammed into the ground behind her. She hung a quick right and bolted down another hallway, kicking a heavy display case into the doors behind her.

"Weiss!" another voice called, this one from the side of the hallway.

She recognized the balding head of the butler, Klein, sticking his head out of an ornate wooden door. The blanchette sighed. "You're not seriously going to try to stop me, are you?"

"On the contrary," the old butler replied, waving her into the room. "In here."

Weiss weighed her options. On one hand, she had her escape planned. On the other hand, it had already gone haywire, and there was only one way to get to her destination now, a path that was probably being blocked off. The other escape option would be easier to get to, but she'd have to cross the grounds afterwards and the sun was beginning to rise on the horizon.

Reluctantly, she ducked inside the room- she recognized it as the old library- and shut the door behind her. It was a dusty shadow of its former glory- a two-level room with a large chandelier on the ceiling and bookshelves that had clearly not been touched in a long time.

Klein waste no time, leading her over to the opposite side of the room. "There's an old tunnel here, hidden away long ago."

"Another tunnel?" she asked incredulously. "I didn't know about this one."

"Few still do," the butler told her. He pushed a bookcase aside, revealing a rough stone passage. "This will take you out past the grounds."

Weiss gasped, but quickly composed herself. As she clicked on her weapon light and examined the passage, she reminded him, "Father will have you lynched for this."

"You held me at swordpoint. I am not a fighter- what could I have done?" he told her with a mischievous smile. "Go, now."

"Thank you, Klein," Weiss said one last time before entering the secret passage toward freedom.

* * *

Dressed in a short grey jacket, grey jeans and wide-framed sunglasses, the white-haired girl strolled quietly down the street with a duffel bag clutched tightly in her hands. It was one of many commercial areas in Atlas, this one low-density and just starting to get busy in the early morning hour. Spotting a man in a light grey hoodie sitting on the patio of a cafe with a name in garbled French, she made her way over.

"Is that my coffee?" Weiss asked casually, leaning against the table.

"Sure. If I had a blank space, I'd write your name," the young man replied, stumbling slightly over the words. Rough stubbled marked his face, and a second pair of ears poked out from his messy hair underneath his hoodie.

"Nuada."

"Weiss."

"I can't believe you picked Katy Perry for a codeword," Nuada said disapprovingly.

"Taylor Swift," Weiss corrected, sitting down across from him.

Nuada raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Blank Space is Taylor Swift, not Katy Perry," she elaborated, propping her elbows on the table. "So? How did it go?"

"A few hours in the middle of the night isn't very long," Nuada dodged. "Even for me. I'm not a miracle worker, you know."

"Do you have it?" she asked anxiously.

"You know, there's a fifty-fifty chance they'll realize you're not Schnee corporate," he continued. "Siegfried's going to want to keep this quiet, but he's going to send out feelers-"

"Nuada," Weiss warned, voice icy. "Do you have it or not?"

"Yeah, I have it," he answered reluctantly. "It's just, the thing is-"

"The thing is what?" Weiss snapped, harsher than she meant. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "Sorry. I'm kind of on edge. What is it now?"

"Look, I can get you _on_ the flight. I can't get you _off_ the flight. Once you land on Earth you'll have to deal with the authorities there," he explained quickly. "As I understand it, their Homeland Security can and will detain you."

"I have friends on Earth," Weiss replied. "Hopefully in high enough places."

"Better be pretty high," Nuada reminded her. "You realize this could cause an international incident, right?"

She nodded. "Just get me on that plane."

Nuada sighed before pulling a scroll out from within his jacket and handing it to Weiss. "Everything you need. United Flight 7727, Atlas to Washington."

Weiss stood up and moved to leave, then suddenly leaned forward and enveloped him in a hug. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he replied awkwardly. "Seriously, don't. I don't want to go to jail."

* * *

Weiss kept her expression controlled as she waited outside Atlas Central Airport. She'd ditched the jacket and her outfit left her looking recognizably, but not distinctly, Weiss Schnee. There were a million things that could go wrong. They might not accept her ticket, might not let her through security, might not let her on the flight. Her father might have already made the calls, and there could already be a team waiting in the airport to take her in.

Maybe the Menagerie plan was the better one.

She checked the time on her watch, cross-checked it with her scroll, and took a deep breath. _S_ _howtime_.

The former heiress straightened her posture and strode toward the terminal building, slamming the door open as she entered. Rather than the long line of counters that graced most Terran airports, Atlas Central arranged the check-in desks in a circle with other services in the middle. She made her way to the left quadrant, where the counter used by United, Air Canada, and possibly a few others sat.

"Hello," Weiss greeted with canned politeness, stepping up to the counter. She handed over her scroll- the one Nuada had given her, not her real one or her burner backup. "United, to Washington."

"Good morning, Miss Schnee," the ticket agent greeted, tapping the scroll against his terminal. "This is rather sudden."

"Urgent business, I'm afraid. Both my father and Winter are otherwise occupied, and it could not wait," she replied formally, an air of dismissal to her voice. It was a tone she'd practised long, and one she hated more each day.

"Ah. That's unfortunate," he replied, typing on his terminal before handing back the scroll and a paper ticket. "Looks like the plane's already boarding at gate- sorry, berth 3W. You're in Seat 3A. Give that to the gate agent and they'll let you board as long as the plane is still on the ground. If you hurry you can make it."

"Much appreciated," Weiss thanked, making her way across the area toward the security checkpoint. A dozen guards formed a barrier between the secure area and the insecure one. A short line formed toward one end, and one of the guards occupied himself running a tray of suspicious goods through a scanner. She headed for the empty priority queue on the other side.

"Ticket please," an armoured guard requested, firmly but politely. In one hand, she held a scroll, with her other hanging loose near her pistol.

Weiss handed over her ticket and held out her scroll. The guard tapped her own against it.

"Wow, you're almost late," the guard said. Her eyes were hidden behind a translucent purple visor that matched the accents on her armour, but her voice was friendly. "Anything you need to declare? No banned items?"

Weiss glanced briefly at the board detailing the short list of items banned or restricted from inter-kingdom flights and the far longer list for flights to Earth. She lied, "No."

The guard handed back her ticket and waved her through. "Head right on through, Miss Schnee."

"Thank you," Weiss said politely, crossing the boundary into the secure area.

She kept her pace to a brisk walk as she headed toward the lonely trio of Terran-style gates on the western side of the terminal. Weiss Schnee was in a hurry so she wouldn't miss her important flight. Weiss Schnee was very definitely not running for her life.

The departure lounge was almost empty when she made it, with the doorway to the passenger boarding bridge open. Weiss wasted no time, breaking into a brief run to the uniformed agent standing behind the desk.

"Hi." She handed over the ticket along with her scroll.

"Last minute, huh?" the agent said. She glanced at Weiss's scroll before running the ticket through a scanner whose drab grey housing denoted its Terran origin. "Almost didn't make it. Thank god for Remnan procedures, right?"

The casual conversation caught Weiss off guard. "Huh?"

"Well, you'd be held up for at least an hour in security, after waiting to check in and then you get to wait again after," she explained. "Even in first class. The lounges are really nice, though. Still, just between you and me, I think flying's way more fun on Remnant." She ripped part of the ticket off, then handed it back along with the scroll. "Here you go."

"Yeah, I guess," Weiss replied, taking the offered items. "Thank you."

She spared a glimpse at the aircraft she was about to board before heading down the boarding bridge. The plane was a quad turboprop in plain United Express livery, small and lousy by Terran standards and downright junk by Remnan standards. One of the port engines, providing electrical power and ventilation to the cabin, was already running, and by the time Weiss made it into the cabin, the one beside it was also starting to turn.

"Welcome aboard, Miss Schnee," the lone flight attendant, a young man dressed in the smart but drab United uniform, greeted as she entered the cabin. "Looks like you're the last one aboard. Take any seat you like."

Weiss decided on 2D, a window seat in an empty row near the front, shoving her bag into the tight overhead bin before sitting down and strapping in. In front, the flight attendant pulled the entry door shut.

She was somewhat surprised by the interior of the aircraft. It was relatively small, with fourteen rows of four each, and quite spartan with simple seatback tables and no screens for in-flight entertainment. But it was new, with the seats covered in a deep blue fabric she supposed was fashionable on Earth, nearly unblemished magazines in the seatback pouches, and a pervading smell similar to that of a new car.

The young woman paid no attention as the pilot started up the other two engines and the flight attendant rattled off the usual pre-takeoff safety spiel. The seat belt light lit up, accompanied by a chime, but hers was already cinched in tight. With a bump, the aircraft began to roll backwards. A few passengers tensed up as the plane pushed back under its own power, but Weiss relaxed slightly. Almost there.

Three years after contact, travel between worlds was still far from commonplace. The United airplane was the only one in line to take off from Atlas Central's lone runway, and there was no wait for clearance. They rolled back from the gate and turned around on the tarmac, making an s-curve down the apron onto the runway. After one last radio call to Atlas Control, the pilot pushed the throttles forward and released the brakes.

Weiss allowed herself a thin smile as the acceleration pushed her back into the seat. The four oversized turboprops filled the cabin with a deafening drone as the little plane rocketed down the runway. It was short and the pilot needed all the power he could get, but the plane delivered. With a bit of up elevator, the aircraft lifted off the ground, free from the bounds of earth.

She glanced back at the airport through the small window. The former heiress wasn't looking forward to landing at the other end, plan or no plan. But she'd try to enjoy the flight. After all, it beat the hell out of shivering in a cargo hold.

* * *

Weiss stepped briskly off the airplane, making her way down the jetway behind a thin man who seemed to be in as much a hurry as she was. She forced herself to relax. The flight hadn't been bad, all things considered, and for better or for worse she was firmly on Terran soil now.

She glanced behind her shoulder out the large windows of the airport. Their quad turboprop looked tiny between two large twinjets, one carrying ANA and one with Lufthansa markings. International. In under an hour, she'd gone from one nation to another- hell, one _world_ to another. It was as awe-inspiring as it was terrifying.

The fugitive continued down the wide corridors of the airport toward her destination, customs and immigration. It was far more elaborate than similar setups on Remnant- the idea of borders wasn't as strong on her world. Uniformed security operated scanners and computers on the ground level, and armed guards watched over from above.

She lined up and waited for her turn. The line wasn't long, but it wasn't short, either. Still, the staff was efficient, and the line moved quickly.

"Coming from Remnant?" the official asked when she reached the front.

Her answer was terse. "Yes."

She motioned to the left with her arm, where another officer was waiting behind a desk labelled _Remnan Arrivals_. "Over there, please."

Weiss made her way over, where the other officer asked, "May I see your documentation?"

Wordlessly, she handed over her scroll and ticket, knowing that it was woefully inadequate. The requirements for travel to Earth were quite stringent. On the Remnan side, she got through the shorter pre-checks with forged documentation. On this side, there was very little chance of that working.

The border agent briefly inspected the package, finding half the documents she was supposed to have missing. "Is this all your documentation? I don't see a visa or a letter of-"

She kept her voice neutral. "That's all I have."

His forced smile instantly turned into an unapologetic frown. "Ma'am, you're going to have to come with me. I'm sorry, but you're being temporarily detained. Don't make this difficult."

* * *

Weiss twiddled her thumbs nervously as she sat in the drab interrogation room. That wasn't what they called it, but she was pretty sure that was what it was. To her disappointment, it lacked the classic two-way mirror, but a security camera blinked at her from the corner and it probably wasn't the only one. The table and chairs in the room were plain metal, and a lone poster with a list of rules decorated the concrete walls. They'd taken her bag, her scroll, her phone and even her keychain, leaving her with nothing to do.

After what seemed like hours, the door clicked and swung open. Weiss bolted upright. "Finally!"

A familiar figure stood in the doorway, unleashing an annoyed sigh. "You just _had_ to show up and make my job that much harder, didn't you?"


	31. Run II

This arc is coming together really nicely. I think we may actually wrap by the end of May instead of the end of June, but I'm not going to rush the rest of Run and certainly not Unending.

 **R** **un I** **I**

For what seemed like the sixth time that minute, Blake checked her watch. She couldn't see her contact, and that worried her. Their last communication was close to a warning, and that had her on edge from the beginning.

"Hey, we should talk," Améthyste had said over their usual voice channel. An old acquaintance from Blake's time in the White Fang, Amy had become a reliable friend and her usual point of contact within the Faunus Liberation movement in the years after contact.

Blake thought she had an idea of what it was about. Immediately, she had asked, "Is it about the pictures?"

"Yes... no. It's about pictures, but not the ones you're thinking of," came the slightly surprising answer. "We should meet. Like now."

Half and hour later, she was standing near the edge of a well-maintained but mostly empty park. The trees glowed a deep green in the rising sun, with a few joggers making their rounds and a group of dazed teenagers wandering around in circles. Probably high on that herb from Earth, she thought to herself. A dark-haired woman chatted idly on her scroll on the other side of the park, a stroller sitting precariously on the edge of the sidewalk ahead of her.

She checked her watch again and sighed. No sense standing around and standing out. She made her way to a slightly damp park bench and sat down.

"Blake," a voice greeted from the tree above her.

"There you are," Blake greeted with a slight smile, looking up at the purple-haired girl as she hung from her long tail. "You know, I can't remember the last time we actually met up. How's the League treating you?"

"Sure beats the Fang," Améthyste answered, dropping down onto the bench. "It's been busy, but worth it. What you've been giving us has been immensely helpful."

The cat faunus arched an eyebrow. "You said it wasn't about those."

"You're right, it isn't," Amy said with a sigh. She reached into her hoodie, pulled out a scroll, and handed it to Blake. "It's about these."

Blake couldn't help but blush when she saw the pictures. She flipped through them as quickly as possible, observing that they had clearly been taken discreetly, before handing the scroll back.

"No, I didn't take those, I don't have a death wish," Améthyste said quickly, stashing the device. "But someone did, either working for the SDC or on their own and selling to the SDC. If Mister Schnee doesn't have those pictures yet, he will soon enough."

"How did you even get these?" she interrogated, still reeling from the shock.

The purple-haired faunus non-answered, "We have our sources."

"Great."

"I have to ask, are you two really, um, you know... together?" Améthyste asked quietly, half-gloved fingers tapping against each other.

Blake rolled her eyes. "Yes, Amy, we are."

Clearly uncomfortable, she continued, "And it's not like an extortion thing-"

"No, Amy, it's not." Blake sighed. It was bad. Really bad. She wasn't sure how bad, or what she would do, but she knew it was bad. She always knew in the back of her mind that this day would come, but always hoped it wouldn't.

"Look, Papa Schnee is not an idiot," Améthyste prodded, breaking her old friend's trance. "I'll admit I almost dismissed those pictures, but he won't. He probably suspects already, and it won't take him long to put the pieces together. Maybe he already has. He's not going to be happy when he finds out you're together. He's going to be even less happy when he realizes she's the one who's been leaking-"

"What?" Blake snapped, surprised. "I never told you-"

"Proving my point. If I can figure it out, so can he," she reminded. "He's going to go after you, you know. He didn't cut Weiss off three years ago, and that's coming back to him. And Schnee... well, he doesn't deal mistakes well. He'll either try to twist this to his advantage or cover it up no matter the cost, and you don't want to be around whatever he does."

Blake exhaled deeply. "Yeah. You're right. I have to warn Weiss."

She nodded. "Sooner than later. Do you have a place to hide?"

Blake considered that for a moment before offering a half-hearted, "Uh-huh."

"I'm serious, Blake," Amy pushed. "He's going to go after you, and we both know he doesn't care about getting violent."

"I know," Blake assured. "I have a place. Really."

"Okay. Be careful, Blake."

"You too, Amy," Blake replied. She glanced to the side and noticed Amy had already disappeared.

* * *

By the time Blake made it back to their shared apartment, Yang was already awake, watching some mindless Terran movie being shown on the viewscreen. She ignored the blonde, instead pulling the scroll out of her pocket and dialling a familiar contact. "Come on, Weiss, pick up..."

Yang turned from her position on the couch, a mischievous smirk on her face. "Blake, it's been like a week, you can't be that-"

"Do _not_ finish that sentence," Blake snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at her partner. She tried the scroll again to no avail. "Damn it! She's not picking up."

"She's probably streaming," Yang said nonchalantly. "Really, Blake, why are you in such a rush?"

Of course. Blake grabbed Yang's laptop off its precarious perch on the dining table with one hand, scroll still in the other. "Good idea."

"You know I'm full of them," the blonde said with a smile before turning back to her movie.

She offered no reply, instead messaging Weiss over the internet and dialling her on the scroll again. Finally, after what seemed like an agonizing hour, the blanchette answered her scroll. Her voice was shrill and annoyed. "Damn it, Blake, I'm streaming, what do you want?"

"Oh, was this a bad time?" Blake recited, forcing her voice to be calm. She had no idea if anyone else was listening, but figured that there was a good chance her voice would carry over Weiss's microphone. "I was just wondering if you had any idea why Tybalt started the fight in- you know what, forget it, I'll call back."

"Quoting Shakespeare now?" Yang asked. She switched their viewscreen off with her scroll as she stood up. "What's going on, Blake?"

"I have to go." Blake stuffed a few items into her bag, then threw her coat on, briefly checking Gambol Shroud before slinging the bag over her shoulder. She bolted for the front door, unlatching the deadbolt and opening it.

Before she could make it through, it slammed shut with a loud bang. Yang stood leaning against the door, blocking her escape. "Uh-uh. Not until you tell me what's going on."

"Yang, you don't want to get involved in this," she implored, exasperated. "I really, really have to go."

"I'm already involved whether you want me to be or not," the blonde insisted. "I don't like being kept in the dark, Blake."

The faunus girl sighed, dropping her bag. "Someone took... compromising pictures of me and Weiss. An old friend told me that Siegfried Schnee has them now, and that there's a good chance he's going to come after us."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Yang replied with a slight smile. "Now we can do something about it."

"You didn't have to get involved," Blake said lamely.

"Yes, I do," the blonde insisted, relaxing her posture a bit. "What kind of a partner would I be if I didn't?"

Blake considered it for a moment. Like it or not, there was no stopping Yang Xiao Long. She was nothing if not headstrong. Instead, she offered a smile. "Thanks."

"No time to lose," Yang replied, heading back into the apartment. She moved quickly from room to room, grabbing various things and throwing them into bags. It was haphazard, yet somehow organized at the same time. "We're going to Atlas."

"Atlas?" Blake asked, picking up her bag and following her partner toward the door. "How the hell are we going to get to Atlas?"

"Cross the border to Vancouver, fly to Washington, cross the border into Atlas," she replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She opened the front door again and strode into the hallway.

"Yang, that's never going to work!" Blake objected, following her and shutting the door behind them. "Those borders are sealed tight, we'll never make it across."

As they headed down the staircase, she pulled a pair of thin wallet-shaped objects out of her jacket and waved them around. "We will with these."

"Those _have_ to be blacklisted," the faunus girl replied as soon as she realized what they were.

"Probably. But they'll get us at least to the Earth side of the border, we can explain what's going on, and they'll help us... or at least let us through,"

"That's not how it works!" Blake shot back, quickening her pace to keep up with her taller partner. Even in heels, she was a few inches shorter, and she had flats on today. "Your hubris will be the death of you, Yang."

Yang pushed open the door to the parking garage and held it, locking eyes with her partner as she passed. "Do you have a better plan, Blake?"

"One of our plans _was_ to try to escape to Earth," she admitted in reply. "Weiss thought it was doable, but I don't know. Our plan B was Menagerie."

Yang made a face. "Menagerie? I'd take my chances with Siegfried's goons."

"That's almost exactly what Weiss said," the faunus echoed.

"Well, if she went with Earth, we'll call her from the airport. If she went with Menagerie, we'll figure out a way to get there," Yang said confidently, coming to a stop beside a large, aggressively-styled yellow sports car. "Come on. Hop in."

Blake glanced at her partner, the car, then back at her partner. "Is that-"

"Yes it is- well, sort of," Yang replied, opening the driver's side door and climbing in. She waited for Blake to enter from the other side before adding, "Best part is, they pay me to drive it."

* * *

Yang's driving style didn't surprise Blake in the slightest. As expected, her partner treated traffic laws as a suggestion at best. The faunus girl hung on tight as she hammered the accelerator, pulling out of the parking garage and tearing down the street. The brawler steered with one hand, reaching over and turning on the sound system with the other. It blared some old Terran rock music that grated on Blake's sensitive ears.

A lone green sedan puttered along, and she pulled into the opposite lane and zipped past before merging back in. Without signalling, Yang turned onto a side street and bolted through it onto a larger thoroughfare, merging in between a pair of delivery vans. Blake grimaced as the mirror on her side nearly grazed the side of one of them.

The blonde, of course, noticed her discomfort and laughed. "Geez, Blake, relax, I'm barely breaking the speed limit."

"Do you always drive like this?" she admonished.

"I'm driving gentle," Yang insisted. Seeing an open stretch of road ahead, she swerved between the delivery vans and bolted down it.

"I'm serious," Blake implored. She glanced at their rear view mirror. The delivery drivers looked incensed, but one of them turned left off the road, revealing a green sedan behind. "Yang, I think someone might be following us."

Yang reached over and shut off the music. "Who?"

"The green sedan." Sure enough, when Yang turned onto another side street without signalling, the green car showed up seconds later.

"I see it," Yang confirmed. She spared a mischievous glance at her partner. "You might want to hold on."

"I'm already holding on!" she protested to no avail.

"Then hold on harder!" Yang floored the accelerator, the horizontally-opposed engine under the hood roaring in response. The yellow sports car bolted down the rough side street, slamming its passengers up and down on the rough pavement.

She jerked the steering wheel to the right, the rear tires breaking loose and sending up a puff of smoke as they scrubbed the pavement. With a pulse of the accelerator, the car bolted forward again, rocketing down another street toward a larger and busier avenue.

"Yang, slow down!" Blake shouted as they narrowly missed a parked truck.

"I can slow down or I can lose our tail," Yang shouted back. She let off the accelerator before slamming the wheel over and slamming her foot down again, pulling into traffic on the avenue. Horns blared, but she ignored them. "You told me to lose our tail."

"Technically, I just said we had one," Blake clarified as they bolted between the lanes past a girl on a red motorcycle and a white limousine. "I didn't tell you to lose them."

"It was implied!" Yang responded. She continued darting through the slow-moving traffic, dodging from lane to lane to the ire of the other drivers. At three times the pace of traffic, they quickly approached the onramps leading to the main highway, the artery that ran through the centre of the city-state. Instead of heading up, however, Yang hung a sudden right onto a busy commercial road.

"What are you doing?" her partner asked, confused. "That was the road out of Vale!"

"This will also take us out of the city," Yang explained confidently, tapping her fingers against the wheel. She waited for the next intersection, then hung another right. "There's a few more turns, then we'll head out past the airport. They'll think we took the highway, get frustrated and give up."

"I guess." She sounded unconvinced. After a moment of quiet, she mumbled, "I hope Weiss made it out okay."

"Weiss is a smart girl," the blonde assured. "I'm sure she's already got it figured out. She'll probably laugh at our crazy escape."

Blake managed a halfhearted smile. "Yeah."

Yang reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hey. It'll be alright."

* * *

After leaving the city, it had been a tense journey. There was a road now, and it was very new and smooth, but civilian traffic was limited to one lane in each direction and they were surrounded on both sides by towering concrete walls. The road was mostly empty, with an occasional armoured vehicle rolling past. The only break was a large gate blocking off a partially constructed road that would eventually reach Beacon.

The sun was high in the sky by the time they made it to Rift Station. The civilian lanes branched off to the right, with a concrete wall separating them from military traffic. The inside of Rift Station wasn't as heavily fortified as the outside, but there were still several groups of soldiers, a few mechs, and at least one hunter visible. Yang dutifully followed the civilian road to what looked like a toll booth- the Vale side of the border crossing.

As they pulled in front of the booth, she told her partner, "Let me do the talking."

Blake said nothing, but nodded agreement.

The booth itself was empty, which confused them for a moment before a blue-haired woman sauntered in front of the driver's side window. A flash of recognition crossed her face. "Oh, I remember you! Yang and Blake, right? Going back for a visit?"

"Yup," she answered with a nod.

"Where to?" the guard asked.

"Well, Atlas, eventually," Yang answered honestly. "Through Vancouver and Washington."

"Sounds like quite a trip," the guard commented. She held out an open palm. "I'm going to have to see some documentation before I can let you through."

Yang fished in her jacket for their passports and handed them over. "No problem."

"You still have these?" she asked, surprised. "You sure they'll still take them?"

"It's a long story," Yang answered with a smile and shrug. "And, I hope so. They never voided them."

"Well, I can't guarantee they won't pull some technicality on the other side," the border guard told her, handing the documents back. "But I have no reason to stop you here. Welcome to neutral ground."

"Thanks." Yang rolled up the window, threw her car into gear, and crept out of the checkpoint as soon as the metal barrier retracted. She followed the road as it wound around the edge of Rift Station toward the portal. A row of barriers sat between them and the majority of the base, with several armed soldiers- some wearing the drab camouflage of Terran nations and some the polished armor of the kingdoms- stood watch. Another mech sat inside the base, pointed toward the road, with an armoured vehicle visible past the shimmering barrier between worlds.

"Here goes nothing?" Blake asked as they approached the portal.

"Here goes nothing," her partner agreed. She pushed down gently on the accelerator, pushing them through the barrier. There was a slight bump, a brief feeling of disorientation, and then they were on Earth.

The scene on the other side was similar, but not quite the same. The area around the road was open on both sides, with a pair of armoured vehicles pointing inward toward it. Several soldiers were visible with crew-served weapons on both the outer wall and a ridge on the inward side. A barrier blocked the road several metres away from the actual outer wall, with a small booth beside it. A large sign proclaimed the name of the crossing, as well as a brief warning about lethal force and a halfhearted welcome message below it.

"Coast Valley Border Crossing," Yang muttered to herself as they rolled to a stop in front of the barrier. "Looks like Iraq. Or... Syria."

The booth was not a prefabricated shack like the one on the Vale side, but rather a sturdy steel and cement structure. Behind several layers of armoured glass sat the border agent- a CBSA agent, to Yang's surprise. He reached down for his microphone and recited, "Please place your documents in the tray for inspection."

"Not even a hi, how's the weather?" the blonde complained lightly. Seeing the dour look on the agent's face, she decided not to push it. Instead, she pulled the passports out of her jacket pocket and dropped them into the tray.

The tray retracted into the booth, where the agent removed the documents and briefly inspected them. He spoke into his radio a few words they couldn't hear before frowning. "Ma'am, please shut off the engine, leave your keys in the ignition and exit the vehicle with your hands visible."

"You know, _I told you so_ doesn't even begin to describe this," Blake hissed, gently opening the passenger side door and raising her hands into the air.

"Hey, we made it to the other side," Yang shot back as she shut off the engine and stepped out of the car. "That's practically halfway."

They made no effort to resist when a group of soldiers rushed forward with weapons out, pushing them to the ground and snapping sturdy handcuffs over their wrists.

* * *

I think I got the timezones backward. Did you notice?


	32. Run III

At first, this chapter went together rough and I wasn't happy with it, but I think it developed nicely. Originally, this was going to be the first half of the last chapter of Run, but things were running long so I decided to split it in two. I've already started on Run IV, so it should follow quickly.

 **R** **un I** **I** **I**

"You just _had_ to show up and make my job that much harder, didn't you?" Rose said with a sigh. She stepped into the room, and shut the door behind her. "Seriously, Weiss, what the hell were you thinking? Do you have any idea how many felonies you've committed."

Weiss looked up, her face refusing to betray her anxiety. "Sorry, back up, your job?"

"Special Agent Rosalind Drake, FBI," she explained, flipping out her badge and stowing it again. "Decided to take the offer about six months after I came back."

"Huh. I was wondering where you went. Even Ruby didn't know," the blanchette remarked.

"I haven't been very good about keeping in touch," Rose stated, a tinge of regret in her voice. She sat down across from her charge. "But that's besides the point. Let me give you an idea of the kind of shit you've stepped into. Under the existing treaties, we can either ship you back to Atlas in chains or throw you in a cell indefinitely without trial."

She raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't do that, would you?"

"It's not really my choice," Rose remarked. "The only reason the book hasn't been thrown at you is because the last time you showed up it was possibly the biggest intelligence coup of all time."

Weiss gulped.

Rose smirked and leaned back in the metal chair. "I know you're not stupid or naive, Weiss, and I know you know that you'd end up in this room. So I figure- and my superiors agree with me, otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation- that there's a good reason you decided to smuggle yourself across one of the most secure border in two worlds." She leaned forward. "So, Weiss, what is that reason?"

"My father tried to kill me," the young woman stated dryly.

In response, Rose laughed. "Your father tried to kill you? Seriously? Sorry, I don't doubt it, he's an asshole, but that's so cliche. Please, continue."

She took a deep breath. "Early this morning- well, morning in Atlas- I got a call from Blake in the middle of streaming. She asked me about _Tybalt_ , which is our code for 'someone's about to kick down your door'. Sure enough-"

Rose broke into laughter again.

Weiss gave her a dirty look. "What?"

"First, I didn't know you streamed. That's just a funny thought, the once heiress to the Schnee corporation streaming. Second, you had codewords?"

"Yes," the blanchette answered. "Blake was skeptical, but I figured this day would come sooner or later. Call me paranoid, but even the paranoid have enemies."

"So did someone actually kick down your door?"

"Almost. The were armed... thugs, I guess, waiting for me. I had a plan to get out, but it went bad and, well, it kind of turned into a bit of a firefight," she answered awkwardly. "I did get out, obviously."

She shook her head. "Siegfried was willing to shoot up his own mansion and at his own daughter. You must have _really_ pissed him off."

Weiss arched an eyebrow. "What, do you not believe me?"

"I didn't say that. I believe you, but the people I report to might not," Rose dodged. "I mean, all because of your choice of girlfriend?"

She shifted in her seat. "Well, that and I've also been whistleblowing on the SDC's unethical practices."

"Jesus Christ, Weiss!" Rose motioned with her hand. "So you found out, escaped the fortress of doom, hopped on a plane and came here?"

"Yes."

"I'm assuming you had some help with that."

She hesitated before answering. "Also yes."

"I'm also assuming you're not going to tell me-" Rose trailed off as a ringing noise reverberated through the small space. She cringed and reached inside her jacket. "I've got to take this."

The woman stood up and stepped out of the room, leaving the door open, before taking her phone out and answering it. "Rose."

Weiss couldn't hear the reply, but imagined it wasn't good. The bored look on the agent's face turned to one of shock. "They did _what_?"

* * *

After being handcuffed, the runaways were led away from their vehicle toward a small concrete structure. Yang flexed her arms against her handcuffs, causing the guards to step back and raise their weapons.

"Don't," Blake had warned.

A moment later, their escort had resumed pushing them toward the building. It was short and squat, set into the terrain slightly- they had to step down a few steps to get in. Two of their guards kept their weapons trained, while the third moved forward and removed their handcuffs.

"Get in," he told them forcefully. Seeing no other option, they complied. A second later, a thick steel door slammed shut behind them.

The interior of the structure was a single room with walls of unfinished concrete, broken up by conduits and electrical boxes. Had they been more observant, they might have also realized that the roof was far thinner than the walls. A steel tables and four chairs sat in the middle, the chairs loose but the table bolted to the floor. In one corner was a water cooler, the hum of its refrigeration unit mixing with a single fan in the roof into an unpleasant background din. On one wall was a large flat-panel display and visible camera.

"Well, then," Blake commented, glaring at Yang. "We'll just cross the border and fly to Atlas, you said."

"I could probably punch through that door," she countered lamely.

Blake buried her forehead in her hand. "Before or after they put a smart bomb through the roof?"

The blonde considered that for a moment before deflating. "Probably after."

"Hello," a surprisingly pleasant voice greeted. The duo turned to see the face of a dark-haired woman on the screen.

"What the hell is this?" Yang asked immediately, anger in her voice.

"I apologize for the situation you are currently in- we understand that it is distressing," the agent half-replied. "The security of this border is crucial to the security of Earth, and we take every measure necessary to maintain its security. Rest assured that if you cooperate you will be allowed to return to Vale. However, any violence against Terran forces will be countered with any level of force necessary."

"That's just peachy," Blake muttered.

"Why are we being held?" her partner asked, glaring at the woman on the screen.

"Travel across the Coast Valley crossing is highly restricted at this time, with specific requirements to travel to Earth," the agent answered. "Unfortunately, the necessary documentation to enter Canada was not produced at the border crossing."

"But we have Canadian passports!" Yang protested. "They even cleared us on the Vale side!"

The agent looked down, a faint clicking noise indicating that she was behind a computer and typing on it. She looked up again. "The passports in your possession were invalidated over two years ago. Additionally, the names on the passports do not match... hmm."

"What is it?" Blake asked. A hint of irritation crossed her voice, but it was far more calm than her partner's.

"Your names have been flagged on a list of persons of interest," the agent answered. She assured them, "This is strictly a formality and does not mean you will be treated as criminals. However, it does mean I must report your presence and await further instructions."

Yang rolled her eyes. "Great."

"I apologize for any inconvenience," the agent said, a note of possibly-forced apology in her voice. "Water is provided in the holding facility. Your actions are being monitored, so if you have any concerns, simply voice them and they will be addressed."

Despite the cameras, Yang waited until the screen turned off before turning to her partner and remarking, "Holding facility. I guess we're right in the palm of their hand, huh?"

Blake sighed. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

"Give me options."

The analyst leaned back in his chair, took his glasses off and sighed. His response was half-question, half-statement. "You have three illegals- fugitives, possibly- who crossed two separate borders, can't go back or they'll get shot, and you want to do something about it."

"Like I said, give me options," Rose repeated. "Bill, come on, you've got to have something up your sleeve."

"You don't even know if they're on the level," he dodged.

"I'm going to find out in half an hour and I want something to put on the table when I do," Rose tod him.

"Okay, well, basically, it comes down to either shipping them back to Vale or Atlas or both, or we hold them here. Everything is a permutation of that," he answered. "And of those, we pretty much have to send them back whether you like it not."

Surprised, she asked, "We can't keep them here? You do understand what I told you, right?"

"Well, we can keep them here, the problem is what we're going to do with them," the analyst explained. He picked up a pen and twirled it in his hand. "We can hold them, but without a valid reason we'll have to bow to pressure and ship them home sooner or later. We could try to push them through proper channels- asylum status, probably- but most likely they'll get rejected without a solid enough basis. Doing it under the table won't work, it's all too public for that."

"Okay, so we have to send them back. Can we do that in a way that isn't going to deliver them straight into the hands of the Evil Empire?"

He tapped the pen a few more times, deep in thought, before putting it down. "Best bet is Atlas."

Rose raised an eyebrow. "Why Atlas and not Vale?"

"It's complicated, but basically they don't really like Siggy anymore so they might be more inclined to listen to our guests. Also, the military is in control, and they, for the most part, like us. Well, they don't dislike us."

"Okay. Who should I talk to?"

"Uh, probably Rook here in Washington," he answered off the cuff before reaching over and bringing up a few documents on his computer. "General Lili Rook, Atlesian military. That's one-star general. Seems to be what we would call a battlegroup commander, but it's pretty flexible in Atlas. Married, with children. She was on the ground when the portals first opened up- probably prevented a war- and in the initial push in Syria. Hates her job as liaison but believes it's her duty to carry it out. Highly amicable."

"Damn, Bill, how much do we have on these people?" Rose asked, slightly surprised.

Bill chuckled. "A lot more than you'd think, a lot less than we'd like. I hear the NSA's working on something big, but it's still a few years out."

"Can you get me confirmation on Weiss's story?" she asked immediately.

He shrugged. "I can put out some feelers, see what we've got."

"So, best bet is to hand them over, arrange a handoff on favourable terms, talk to General Rook," Rose summarized. "I don't know, Bill."

"I can look over the books, see if there's something else we can use," he added after a pause, slight reluctance in his voice.

"Better. Seriously, though, you're a lifesaver, Bill," Rose said with a nod before grabbing her jacket and turning to leave.

"Rose?" the analyst called.

She turned. "Yeah?"

"Why are you doing this?" he questioned. "Really. Because you think they have something useful for us, or because they're your daughter's friends?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," she answered firmly. "This is where you're going to tell me my job isn't to do the right thing."

"You know, I should," the analyst replied reluctantly. "But not every spook is a heartless bastard, and I feel like sleeping tonight."

"You and me both, Bill."

* * *

"I spy, with my little eye, something that is-"

Blake interrupted her partner. "Camera."

"No, it's a- yeah, it's probably a camera," Yang said back, examining a black object attached to the wall. She sighed, then snapped her fingers. "I have an idea."

Blake didn't even bother trying to be polite. "Is it stupid?"

"Maybe." She headed over to the water cooler and grabbed a stack of cups from its dispenser, taking them back to the table. Whistling to herself, she began stacking them.

"Really, Yang? _Really_?"

She'd managed to make it to the second layer when the viewscreen came to life again, interrupting them with a familiar face on camera.

"Mom?" Yang swung her arm in surprise, knocking over her tower of cups.

"Good evening. Well, probably afternoon where you are," Rose greeted. "I see you're having fun. I was hoping they could move you to a nicer room, but actually that one has secure comms and hopefully you'll be out of it pretty soon anyway."

"So, you're going to get them to let us out?" Yang asked.

She hesitated. "Not exactly."

"What?" the blonde snapped.

"Patience, Yang," Rose urged. She glanced from Yang to Blake. "Look, you've managed to get yourself into one hell of a pickle. I'm sure they read you the riot act, so I won't repeat that. I can get you _something_ , but if you thought you could run the border and live happily ever after you were deluded."

"Actually, we were trying to get to Atlas," Blake corrected weakly.

"Yeah, the hard way," the agent replied. "You must have had a good reason to do that."

"Did Weiss show up on Earth?" Yang asked, jumping the gun by her partner's reckoning. "Did she make it alright?"

"She's safe," Rose dodged.

"Okay," Blake agreed, understanding that was all they were going to get. "My contact in the Faunus Liberation movement- an old friend- wanted to meet with me early this morning. She had with her... compromising pictures of me and Weiss. She told me that she believed Siegfried Schnee had them as well, and if he had them, he'd figure everything out and go after us."

Eyebrow raised, the agent asked, "Figure everything out?"

"Do you know how the Faunus Liberation movement has all those pictures of SDC facilities and the working conditions within?" Blake asked, beginning an explanation. "Weiss still had quite a bit of standing within the SDC- it must be gone now- and that's how we got them."

"And this whole romance thing isn't some kind of faunus special operation?" Rose asked, slightly facetiously.

"Actually, it was her idea," she corrected. "Weiss thought she should use her position for, and I quote, 'something not either horrible or entirely self-serving'. I was worried it could come back to us, but there was no stopping her. I warned her as soon as I got the message from Amy."

"So you decided to cut and run," the agent surmised.

Yang coughed awkwardly.

Rose glared at her adopted daughter. "This was _your_ idea?"

"Sort of. I couldn't let Blake run off on her own to god knows where," Yang answered. "I figured if Weiss was in trouble, we should head to Atlas and meet up with her. So we took Bumblebee to the border-"

"Hold on," Rose interrupted. "Bike or car?"

"Does it matter?" Blake asked, irritated.

"The car," Yang answered. She continued, "So, there was this car chasing us, but I took the back route out of Vale and headed down the new highway to Rift Station. I thought our old passports could get us across, but, well..."

"They let us through the Vale side and then detained us on the Earth side," Blake finished. "For the record, I didn't think it would work."

"Well, that matches with what Weiss told me," Rose said with a sigh. "I'll have something close to confirmation by the time you get to Washington. If it turns out this is some kind of setup, I'll throw the fucking book at you. I trust you, but I don't want to end up in jail."

"We're not lying!" Yang objected before realization dawned on her. Confused, she asked, "Wait, Washington?"

"Hold on," Rose told them. She turned to someone off camera. "Bring her in, and zoom that out."

The feed went blurry as it pulled back before coming back into focus. What looked like an office was visible in the background. A door on the left opened, and a white-haired young woman stepped into the room.

"Blake, what the hell did you-" Noticing the other woman on the screen, Weiss turned to face where she thought Yang was. "This was your doing, wasn't it, Yang?"

"Yeah," the brawler sheepishly admitted.

"Great, the gang's all here. No time to lose." Rose pointed from Weiss to the camera, presumably at Blake. She asked, "You two, are you engaged?"

Blake coughed, "Um, no."

"You are now. Congratulations, I can now hand you over to Atlas together because you're a couple under the laws that matter," Rose told them.

"Excuse me? What's going on, exactly?" Weiss asked at the other end. "We're being handed back to Atlas? That's where we just came from!"

"I've been in touch with General Rook here in Washington," the agent explained to them, eyes glancing between Weiss and the screen before her. "You'll be under the protection of the Atlesian military while they investigate this incident."

"Then what?" Blake asked.

"Rook's on your side, and we think Ironwood will be too, so that's two allies you'll have," Rose answered. "Look, we can't sneak you onto Earth, and you probably won't make it down the proper channels. This way, you'll be together with Atlas between you and Siggy."

"I don't like it."

"Nobody likes it, Blake," the agent replied. She added, "It's five hours to Washington, so maybe we'll come up with something better. But this is our best bet, and I'm going to get assurances and the best deal I can from Atlas."

"Okay," Blake agreed reluctantly.

"And me?" Yang asked.

"I'll deal with you later," Rose answered nonchalantly. "I'm thinking we can have some mother-daughter bonding time while we wait for this whole thing to blow over."

In the corner of the room, Yang groaned. Blake suppressed a smirk, and Weiss failed to suppress a short laugh.


	33. Run IV

Yes, the penultimate chapter. We're nearly to the end of The Remnan Exchange. There are more notes at the end of the chapter both about this arc and TRX in general.

 **R** **un I** **V**

It was not unusual for a C-5 Galaxy to come in for a landing at Andrews Air Force Base, which now served to support operations near and often with Atlas, and for the most part the base personnel and surrounding residents payed no notice. Flaps deployed, it descended on a gentle glide path, touching down with a bump on 28-wheeled landing gear. The pilot stepped on the brakes and deployed thrust reversers, bringing the massive aircraft to a stop.

Behind it, an Air Force EF-15 lit its afterburners and screamed into the sky. A pair of F-35s loitered above as a Bullhead in Atlesian markings circled to make its landing.

The ground crew wasted no time. A tractor rushed into position and two airmen connected it to the C-5. It took only minutes to pull the cargo jet off the runway into position to unload. As soon as the aircraft stopped, airstairs were pushed forward and the giant nose door began to open.

Blake Belladonna steadily made her way down the airstairs, bag over her shoulder. It was far from the worst flight she had been on, and the uncomfortable seating hadn't bothered her that much. She had brought a book along, but ended up spending most of the flight asleep despite Yang's attempts to keep her awake.

"Welcome to DC," Rose called from the ground. "Well, technically Maryland, but close enough."

Before she could reply, Weiss rushed forward from her position beside the agent and embraced her girlfriend. "I was worried about you."

Blake leaned forward for a kiss, telling her, "I was worried. When I heard from Amy, I didn't know if they were already going after you or not-"

Yang interrupted from the stairs, "It's not a contest, guys. Also, half the base is staring."

The two quickly separated, and Rose waved them over off to the side. She asked rhetorically, "Did you see that Bullhead on your way in?"

"No," Blake responded.

Yang pointed down the flight line at a Bullhead in a hover, slowly descending into position beside a V-22 Osprey. "That one?"

"Yes," the agent confirmed. She broke into a brisk walk, her entourage quickly matching their pace to catch up. "The Atlesians move fast. You'll be on that flight. Mostly they ferry supplies and the occasional dignitary. Today they're bringing in half an engine and leaving with you, a few soldiers heading home and bits of radar. They like to do the turnaround quick, so there won't be much time to dally here."

"Okay," Weiss acknowledged quietly. Despite the five hours of acclimatization, she was still struggling to wrap her head around what was going to happen.

"How's Ruby?" Rose asked her daughter offhand as they headed toward the now-landed Bullhead.

"Good," Yang answered tersely. "She'd like to see her mom more."

"I've been busy."

"Sure."

It didn't take long for the group to make their way across the tarmac. The Bullhead looked awkward on the ground, engines rotated horizontal with the bulbous fuselage sitting on three spindly landing legs. On its port side, the loading ramp was deployed and a quartet of airmen slowly wrangled a large crate down it. A suitable ground power unit was, thankfully, available, so the Bullhead had both of its loud turbojet engines shut down.

In addition to the usual USAF ground crew, a group of Atlesian military personnel waited near the loading ramp. Four of them wore plain grey uniforms of Atlesian enlisted and looked more bored than anything. The fifth wore the more elegant uniform of an Atlesian general, with a single gold square on each lapel.

"General Rook," Rose greeted, extending a hand.

The general took her hand firmly. "Special Agent Rose. I assume you've explained what's going on?"

"They've been briefed on the way," the agent answered.

"Good." General Rook turned to the two runaways, her steel eyes granting "We're not going to throw you to the wolves, you have my word."

Weiss couldn't help herself. "That's reassuring."

Rook's eyes snapped to her own. "It's a lot more complicated than you think. General Ironwood will explain it when you get to Atlas, but suffice to say you might be on the right side of history now."

"General Rook, we're ready to load up," one of the ground crew, a USAF captain, informed her.

"Understood," she acknowledged before turning to the other Atlesians. "You're clear to head home. You know the drill."

With a chorus of "Yes, ma'am," they threw salutes and began ascending the loading ramp.

The general returned the salutes. She added to Weiss and Blake, "Good luck."

"Thank you," Weiss replied, hoping to make up for her earlier outburst. She shared a look with Blake before heading up the ramp behind the Atlesians.

"Kick Siegfried's ass for me," Yang called from behind them.

"Hopefully it won't come to that," Weiss replied, though it was drowned out by the screeching hiss of the Bullhead's engines starting.

"You ready?" Blake asked, taking a small, hard seat in the rear of the aircraft.

"Sure." Weiss sat down beside her. Then, she admitted, "Not really."

After a moment, Blake agreed, "Me neither."

* * *

Weiss figured it was mid-afternoon in Atlas when they landed. Neither her nor her (simulated!) fiancee were quite sure. Blake couldn't handle timezone changes well, and Weiss was only slightly better. Because of the portals, it could be day on one side and night on the other, and then one would cross time zones on Earth, go back to Remnant, and end up some odd number ahead. It didn't help that Remnant had slightly shorter days, and the offset with Earth was uneven. At least there wasn't any time dilation that anyone knew of.

It was sunny outside when they landed on the military landing pad at the edge of Atlas, so mid-afternoon seemed like a good guess even if it was midnight in Washington. General Ironwood himself greeted them, which was something of a surprise.

"You might be surprised to hear this, but your timing couldn't be better," the general told her before waving them toward a sleek silver building. A guard saluted, and he returned it crisply as they entered the air-conditioned building.

"Has my father reacted to my disappearance yet?" Weiss asked formally.

"Yes. He's telling the press the White Fang is behind your kidnapping, and he's telling us that you're working with the White Fang. It's a very mixed response to say the least," the general informed. "He claimed he was trying to save face, but I believed he was hiding something. I suppose I was correct."

She nodded. "He's probably hoping you'll deliver me on a silver platter."

"Perhaps." The general lead them down a narrow, shiny metal hallway and into a small conference room lined with panoramic windows. They were obscured partially by another building, but still offered some view of the south side of Atlas. The general motioned for his guests to sit before doing so himself.

"Rose told me that only a few years ago, you would have," Weiss mentioned.

"Let's just say he isn't in the same favour he once enjoyed," Ironwood stated evasively. "Some elements of the Atlesian military-government complex think the SDC would be better off under different leadership."

"You don't like him anymore?" Weiss said, as much a statement as a question.

"Siegfried Schnee has always been a divisive figure. Justified or not, the SDC's practices don't sit well with a lot of people," he allowed. "In this new era, he's a liability to Atlas more than an asset. He's not well liked, especially on Earth, and it appears Atlas is protecting him."

Blake surmised. "So you want to get rid of him."

"I never said that."

"Can't you just throw his ass in jail if you want him gone?" Weiss asked bluntly.

General Ironwood sighed. "The problem is that while we suspect your father has been breaking the law to various degrees, we have no solid proof of anything. We know the SDC engages in unethical behaviour, but nothing decidedly illegal can be traced to him. He does still have some allies in the system, and that certainly doesn't help. But... what he tried to do in the past few days is definitely illegal enough to get him sent away despite those allies, if we can prove it."

"That's the challenge, isn't it," Blake said.

He nodded. "Yes."

"What if I go back and talk to him, wearing wear a wire?" Weiss suggested.

"A what?" he asked, confused.

"A recording device," she clarified.

"Ah." Ironwood considered it for a moment, tapping one hand against the table. "Yes, that could work. If you can extract something resembling a confession from him. That's a pretty big if."

"Oh, he'll want to boast," she assured nonchalantly. "You just have to set it up right, and I know how he thinks and how you can do that."

"Weiss, I don't think that's a good idea," Blake warned. "It's really risky."

"Your... fiancee has a point," Ironwood added. "Given Siegfried's actions up to this point, there is a strong possibility that this could go badly. Even if it doesn't get violent, you could put yourself in an unenviable position we can't get you out of."

"You'll be sitting just outside the Schnee Manor with your troops and a parabolic microphone or two," Weiss outlined, a plan coming together in her mind. "And Blake will be with me."

"What?"

"Do you really think this will work?" the general asked.

She nodded. "It'll work. I know exactly which buttons to push."

* * *

"I hate this plan," Blake complained.

"You think I like it?" Weiss asked sarcastically. She fidgeted briefly, the hard metal of the recording device rubbing against her leg under her dress.

Their car- an Atlesian military vehicle, in fact- rolled to a stop in front of the Schnee Manor. Weiss reluctantly opened the door and stepped out, Blake trailing behind her. General Ironwood had already stepped out and was pulling out his scroll.

"Good evening, Siegfried," he spoke into the device. "We are both busy men, so I will get to the point. I have your daughter. She was caught attempting to enter the United States and turned over to us. She was apprehended with Blake Belladonna, a faunus woman. I understand this is a sensitive matter, so I have kept this discreet."

"Thank you for that, James," came the reply. A hint of surprise was in his voice, but the Schnee patriarch hid shock well. "Please send them in. I will handle this myself."

"I trust there will be no trouble?" Ironwood prodded. He knew there would be, but had a ruse to keep up. It would be out of character for a known critic of the SDC to raise no concern at all.

"None at all, General," Siegfried replied unconvincingly before terminating the call. Ahead of them, the large steel gates of the Schnee Manor began to swing open. In the evening light, the mansion looked more foreboding than ever.

"It's up to you now," Ironwood told the two young women. "Good luck."

* * *

For Weiss Schnee, the halls of the manor she had once called home had never been as suffocating as that night. Silently she marched forward, Blake following behind trying to project support but radiating only nervousness. The mansion was empty, but she knew the way, and despite the large size of the structure it did not take long to reach the large doors that led into Siegfried's private study.

The former heiress took a deep breath, steeled herself, opened them and marched through. Her father said nothing as she entered, merely stared with a look of abject disapproval on his face.

"Good evening, father," Weiss greeted with mock politeness. "I'd like you to meet my fiancee, Blake Belladonna. I'm afraid we were occupied running away from your hired enforcers."

"Well, at least you are making no pretenses," her father narrowly allowed. "I did not intend for that to become violent, but perhaps it was an inevitability. You see, Weiss, there is a conversation we need to have, one that I don't believe you will enjoy. One that you are no doubt anticipating already."

"The one where you lecture me on why I'm wrong and you're right, and that what you're doing is somehow good?" Weiss asked, mostly rhetorically. It was for her own satisfaction as much as anything.

Siegfried stood and paced behind his desk. "The Schnee Dust Company is young, Weiss, founded after the war to take advantage of the reshaped world. Yet few remember a time when the SDC did not exist, at the top of the corporate ladder. It is an institution as stable and crucial as Atlas itself. Do you know why that is, Weiss?"

He did not wait for an answer. "It is because I, like my father before me, know where my priorities lie. There is no right, there is no wrong. There is no love, there is no hate. There are no friends, there are no enemies. There are no ethics or morals. There is only the Company, and what is best for the company.

"The White Fang, the New Fang, the Front, are not ideological opponents. They are simply a contingency that must be dealt with. The faunus are not some biologically inferior species, merely a convenient source of labour that must be occasionally put in line. Winter will inherit the company not because I have any preference for her, but simply because she is in a better position to do so."

The Schnee patriarch waved his arm toward them. "This is a problem- you are a problem- because you cannot or will not understand that simple maxim. All your life, you have been taught why and how, yet you reject it. I have no objection to your actions personally- perhaps my own conscience would have led me down a similar road had I followed it- but, as they say on that alien world you seem to love so much, business is business."

Weiss smiled inwardly. Had he really just incriminated himself with a minute-long evil villain rant?

Then her father turned to her, a burning rage barely concealed beneath his neutral expression. He stated forcefully, "This ends now."

"Father-"

"You have been allowed to run wild, destroying the SDC and everything it stands for, far too long!" the head of the SDC shouted, slamming his fist on his desk. "I have been highly remiss in my handling of you, and that is my failing and mine alone. But this cannot be allowed to continue! You will listen and you will do exactly as I say."

"Like hell she will!" Blake snapped, stepping forward.

"Silence!" he snapped.

"Hey!"

"You were coerced by a White Fang agent who broke you, and used you to steal confidential SDC information. After being captured, that agent attacked the head of the SDC in a rage and was struck down by her supposed girlfriend. That is how your fairy-tale romance will end." Siegfried proposed, speaking only to Weiss. He reached under his desk and withdrew a curved sabre, idly turning it over in his hand. "Not the best ending, but one that we can all live with."

"Not everyone." Weiss stepped between Blake and her father, gritting her teeth. "You want that story? You're going to have to go through me."

Her father snapped, "That was not a request, Weiss. Step aside."

"Go fuck yourself," she spat in reply.

He reeled slightly with the statement. In the ensuing silence, one could hear a pin drop.

"I had hoped it would not come to this, Weiss," Siegfried said ruefully, breaking the silence. Keeping one hand on his blade, he reached over and pressed a button on his terminal with the other.

To his surprise, nothing happened. He glanced at the terminal again, a slight frown on his face.

"They're not coming," Weiss told him smugly, drawing her own sword. "Atlas is on our side, not yours."

"So be it." With surprising agility, Siegfried vaulted over the desk and slashed at Weiss.

She was ready for it, deflecting the blow to the side with her own blade. She drew Snapdragon with her off hand and fired several times into his feet. He yelped in an undignified manner and jumped back.

Weiss stepped back as well, taking position beside Blake. The faunus woman had her own blade out and at the ready. She glanced at her partner then back at their opponent.

"I see you have no honour," Siegfried spat, spinning his sword in his hand.

"You literally just told me honour was for suckers," Weiss reminded him.

"It is." He smiled thinly and rushed forward again, feigning a chop against his daughter before pirouetting on one foot and slashing at Blake with a sideways swipe instead. She jumped back, replying with a quick series of strikes. Siegfried blocked them, but left himself open for Weiss to deliver a hard strike that sent him reeling.

"Honestly, I figured you'd have done a better job rigging this fight," she goaded.

The Schnee patriarch recovered, stumbling to his feet. He bolted forward again, slashing across both girls and sliding between them. They dodged easily, and Blake delivered a pair of quick strikes with the back of her sword that sent him to the floor again.

Weiss shook her head. "This is really, really underwhelming."

Before they could resume, the window exploded, sending a shower of glass inward. Seconds later, a squad of armed troops slid down ropes and swung into the room, raising their weapons at the occupants. They kept their own weapons up, but took no other action for the time being.

"Siegfried," a familiar voice growled. General Ironwood raised his pistol against the man's head. "Drop it. You're under arrest."

The Schnee patriarch sighed deeply, then reluctantly let go of his weapon, letting it clatter to the floor. The general nodded at one of his troops, who rushed forward and bound the man in handcuffs before leading him away. The once-proud head of the SDC glared at his daughter as he passed.

"So, what now?" Blake asked quietly. She smoothly slid Gambol Shroud back into its sheath.

Weiss glanced at her own blade before sheathing it as well. "We let go and begin again."

* * *

A few questions have come up both on Spacebattles and here regarding this arc. I have an Aside incubating that will explain some of it, but I'll answer some of them here as well.

Run is set during summer break between third and fourth year, which works out to spring 2018 on Earth. In other words, it's officially in the future. Ruby is on Patch with Tai, hanging out. Siegfried Schnee is part of the Schnee line and did not marry in, but is not formally combat trained.

I know the final battle is a bit underwhelming, and I'll admit that it's mostly because I suck at writing RWBY-style battles. I kind of decided to cut my losses and write around that.

It'll probably take me a few weeks to finish Unending, and there's be more on the future of the Emergence series with that chapter. The Remnan Exchange has been a mixed bag, but I promise Unending will be a suitable encore not just to TRX but to the whole series.


	34. Unending

This is it. The end of journey that began with a lost huntress and some fans on the streets of Vancouver, grew into a world-spanning black op, and transitioned into a meeting of two worlds that would never be the same again. We're going out with a Yang... erm, going out with a bang. This is a long chapter and I've tried a few new things as well as brought back some old ones for it.

More notes after the chapter- a lot more, actually.

 **U** **nending**

In the four years they had been at Beacon, Team RWBY's dorm had changed surprisingly little. Every time they packed up for the holidays, things moved around a bit, the bunk beds were a little sturdier, the directional antenna hanging out the window came and went, but everything remained in more or less the same place. On a lazy Sunday evening, the team occupied their usual positions, ones that had been decided years prior. Ruby was laying in her top bunk, with Yang sitting in bed, Blake curled up in the corner, and Weiss at her desk.

Suddenly, Ruby threw her book to the side and stood up on her bed, nearly smacking her head on the ceiling. "Assignments?"

"In," Yang answered, not even looking up from the gallery on her phone.

She continued her mental checklist, bed swinging ominously. "Exams?"

Without closing her book- a thoroughly mediocre novel about shades of grey, Blake answered idly, "Done."

"Marks?"

"Back," Weiss answered from behind her Macbook Pro. She was more focused on the reddit thread on her screen than her leader's antics.

"Practisomething?"

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Approved."

"Projects?" Ruby asked. She paused in thought. "We don't have projects."

"Ruby, we got the letters," Weiss said, exasperated. She hammered down an angry reply and hit send. "You showed me yours. We're all going to graduate. Stop fretting."

"I am not fretting!" Ruby complained, pouting. "Old people fret! I'm just making sure we're ready."

"We're ready, Ruby," her partner insisted. "It's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal!" the crimsonette exclaimed, again nearly putting her head through the ceiling. She hopped off the bed and gestured excitedly. "This is it! The big day is not even a week away! When we finish learning at school and start getting out there and doing it for real in the real world!"

"I don't know about you, but I've already made arrangements," Weiss retorted. "What you consider graduation is merely a formality."

"Yeah, but it's gonna be a pretty awesome formality," Yang interjected.

"It's symbolism, Weiss," Ruby added.

She rubbed her face tiredly. "Do you even know what that word means?"

Ruby opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a series of quick raps on the door. After a few seconds of muffled voices, the handle turned and the door swung open. On the other side were four figures, freezing almost into a tableau. A tall, muscular blond that paired thick plate armor with his tattered hoodie stood in front, with a redheaded woman in elaborate bronze standing beside him touching his arm. Squished between and below them was a shorter woman with pink hair and a guilty look on her face, her dark-haired and green-clothed companion behind her with face firmly in his hand.

Nora moved first, offering in the way of an explanation, "Your door wasn't locked."

Pyrrha apologized for her team. "I'm sorry."

"What are you guys doing?" Ruby asked, far more curious than angry.

"Thought we'd check up," Jaune answered. "We just got back from Vale. It's been pretty busy and we haven't really had the chance to hang out lately."

"You know, you're right, we haven't seen you guys in a while," Yang commented offhand.

Jaune awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "We've been busy, you know. With school and things."

"Jaune passed every one of his classes!" Pyrrha said proudly.

He shrugged nervously. Though his skills had improved, he'd never quite gotten over the awkwardness. "It's better than the alternative, I guess."

"Good job," Ruby praised honestly. She turned to Pyrrha. "How did you do in that competition?"

"It was less an organized competition and more a barely coherent series of fights," she replied. "I won all my matches, but we didn't finish all the brackets."

"That's too bad," Blake commented from her corner.

"I bought some games in Vale," Nora blurted out. She reached under her skirt and withdrew a few thin plastic cases. "This game is about smashing. Who wants to play?"

Weiss stood immediately. "I'm in."

"Jaune and I are going to the roof to practice," Pyrrha said, grabbing her boyfriend and forcefully pulling her away.

Yang couldn't help herself. "Yes, practice, that's what it is."

Nora ignored the comment and asked, "Do you want to play?"

She shook her head. "I've got some stuff I should take care of."

"Ruby?"

The crimsonette hopped up and down in excitement. "Yup!"

"Blake?" Nora asked expectantly.

"No, thank you, Nora," the young woman answered politely, holding up her book.

As the group left for the nearby JNPR dorm, Yang commented slyly, "Looks like it's just you and me, Blake."

"Yang, if you try anything with my fiancee, I will eviscerate you," Weiss shouted from the hallway.

"Girlfriend," Blake muttered. "It's just a legal fiction."

"Aw," the blonde complained. She poked her partner with her foot. "Whatcha doing, Blake?"

"Reading," came the reply. "Don't you have stuff to take care of?"

"Sure." Yang nodded and went back to her phone for a moment. She hummed in thought before poking her partner again. "Hey, did you know there's a motorcycle with a turbine engine in it?"

Blake sighed, putting down her book for a moment. "This is going to go on all night, isn't it?"

* * *

Sam Georgeas strode down the sidewalk, stepping slightly to the left to avoid a kissing couple. It was a cloudy evening, but it was dry, and the city glowed brightly against the darkening sky. If he were the more philosophical type, he might reflect upon how he had gotten used to living in the city, or how much the world had changed around him, but instead he just marvelled at the brightly lit signs as he headed toward his destination.

Ben was already waiting for him, leaning against the brick wall outside of the bar with his phone in his hands. Before Sam could utter a greeting, Jen rounded the corner and snuggled up to her fiancee. Ben glanced up, first at her and then at Sam, waving lamely.

"Hey, you're here early," Sam greeted, extending a hand.

Ben took it warmly. "Yeah. We haven't talked in a while."

"No shit. Can't believe it's already 2019. Get on Discord, man," Sam said with a laugh.

"Nobody uses Discord anymore," Ben pointed out, missing the point. "Well, I mean, they do, but they won't soon. It's on its way out. There's this new-"

"Sure, whatever," he dismissed before turning to Jen. "I heard you two are engaged now. Congratulations."

"Yeah, for a month now," Jen answered. "Who told you that?"

"Isaac did, would you believe it?" he replied with a laugh. "What have you two been up to?"

"Ben got that job with Microsoft," she informed. "I'll be finishing my degree this year, hopefully."

"Excellent." Sam motioned toward the door. "We should probably go in, sit down. I have no idea when those guys are gonna show up."

Ben nodded, pushing the door open and heading through, leaving the other two to scramble inside. The bar was much like they had remembered it, still loud with the sound of overlapping conversation and dank with the smell of overconsumed alcohol. From a table at the back, a bearded man in a light blue shirt waved them over.

Sam made his way over. "When the hell did you get here?"

"I've been here half an hour," Cliff stated matter-of-factly, picking up a fry and eating it. "Did you not the bright blue BMW out there?"

"It's Vancouver, there are like a billion bright blue BMWs," Sam exposited.

"You have a BMW? Why would you buy a BMW?" Ben complained at Cliff, though loud enough for everyone to hear. "You could have bought a Tesla."

Cliff ignored him, instead saying to Sam, "Actually, not a lot of people buy that colour. Usually black or silver. But I guess you wouldn't know that, living in fucking Langley."

"Surrey, now," he corrected, deadpan.

"Great, so did you trade your beater of a pickup for a saturday night special?" he snarked.

"Hi, guys," another voice interrupted. Isaac quickly edged in, taking the last spot at the booth. "You're late."

"No, you're early," Sam shot back before sitting. "Anyway, remember how the last time we were here it was really big and important?"

"What, you mean when you lost that bet over League?" Isaac asked sarcastically.

"No, last time _we_ were here was for that. Last time _everyone_ was here was big." Sam paused. He withdrew an ornate envelope from his jacket and placed it delicately on the table. "Remember RWBY?"

"The cancelled show?" Ben asked jokingly.

"Yes, Ben, the cancelled show, not the four girls who literally changed the world and lived in your apartment for four months," Sam shot back.

"That was like four years ago," Cliff deadpanned. "Wait, three. No, four. Eh."

He nodded. "Yeah, I know, but it was a pretty fucking monumental event."

Ben waved it off. "I follow, continue."

"See that envelope- the one you just got ketchup on, what the fuck Isaac- well, that's an invitation," he answered. "They're graduating and they want us to be there."

"In fucking February?" Cliff asked immediately.

"Apparently."

"Alright, sure, whatever, sure. Games can wait."

Ben glanced at Jen, who nodded. "I guess we're going. It'll be cool to see Vale."

Isaac shrugged. "I'm in."

Sam grabbed the envelope off the table. "Perfect. I'll RSVP. Now, let's get sloshed."

* * *

Nearly a day into her trip, Katya was exhausted.

It was her first time flying outside Ukraine, and it was proving to be a quite arduous ordeal. She had to fly first from Kyiv to Warsaw on a LOT flight, then onward to Moscow on an Aeroflot flight. At both airports, she had to pass through customs and immigration, presenting a heap of documents and answering dozens of pointed questions in languages she sort of spoke.

She remembered stories from her parents and uncle about the old Soviet days, and admitted to herself that what she was going through sounded a lot like that. Then again, she was travelling to another world, not just another country. It was difficult for anyone to do that.

After being scrutinized at Sheremetyevo, it was onward to Mistral. The departure lounge was almost empty, and the flight itself was a half-full Antonov that bounced ominously down the runway. The After crossing into East Ukraine, a pair of Russian fighter jets joined them and escorted them all the way to the portal, only breaking off just before they passed through.

The airy architecture and casual atmosphere of Mistral was a stark contrast to the formal and stifling post-Soviet Moscow. A smiling attendant waved them toward the terminal building, an oddly stacked wooden structure. The air was warm and humid, with a wind blowing in over the massive lake that defined the kingdom. Several airships were parked around the aerodrome, along with a lonely seaplane and a jumbo jet.

The door led straight into an arrival lounge that opened to the rest of the airport. Only the departure gates were separated by a broad security checkpoint. A line of shops and restaurants sat on a level above them with curving staircases connecting the floors. A large banner welcomed travellers to the Kingdom of Mistral.

"Dobro pozhalovat' v Mistral," she echoed to herself, taking in the sights. Behind her, a large door opened and a pair of handlers began moving luggage from their cart to a metal tray. She debated grabbing something eat, glancing up at a board announcing flight times. If she was reading it right- damn, no time. Spotting her battered brown bag, she picked it up and headed toward the security checkpoint.

The checkpoint was well-staffed, and the line was only a few people deep. A metal detector and X-ray scanner sat to the site, unused. A man in a light blue uniform stopped her when she reached the front of the line. Wordlessly, she handed over her papers- tickets, passport, and visa.

"Going to Vale?" the agent asked. "Do you have a friend graduating from Beacon? That's this week, I think."

She nodded in response.

"Who?"

"Weiss Schnee," she replied.

"Wow, really? I'm sure she set all this up, didn't she?"

She nodded.

"You look really tired."

She nodded again.

"Well, you can sleep on the flight," the agent said, handing her the papers back. "The 744ADM is loud, but if you put earplugs in it's almost as comfortable as a C-class. You can't miss it, it's the only berth with a long thing aircraft in it."

"Thank you," Katya said lamely, taking them and heading onward to the gates- berths, the agent had called them. The departure area was open, with large glass windows giving a view of the airport and the city beyond. It was, like the rest of the airport, mostly empty. She supposed it was some unholy hour in Mistral.

Most of the berths were clearly designed for Remnan airships, and in fact one had one of the strange looking aircraft docked in it. Two of them were constructed much like gates at a Terran airport, and one of them was occupied with a large, slender widebody jet.

She knew this type of plane from movies and TV. The raked tailfin and bulged foredeck of the aircraft were unmistakable. Four engines sat under each wing; long, slender units in paired pods. The engine pods clashed with the design of the aircraft- they were clearly a Remnan addition to a Terran design. It was painted with Atlesian Airways markings, a deep blue stripe across its brilliant white body along with a stylized version of the Kingdom's symbol on its tail.

As she stared at the sleek airliner, a yellow-haired- not blonde, yellow!- young man strode past her toward the airplane. Katya took this as her cue, following him down the jetway toward the waiting airliner.

The inside of the plane was just as impressive as its exterior. It was almost brand new, refitted to a compromise between Terran and Remnan ideals. It was wide open, with only galley and lavatory blocks that didn't interrupt the aisles or hide the length of the plane. All the seating was lie-flat, mostly in a 2-3-2 configuration tapering to 2-2 near the nose, with curved overhead bins above them. She handed her electronic ticket to the waiting flight attendant, gawking at the interior.

"You're lined up for 8B, just in front of the wing on this deck, but it's not busy so you can take the window seat instead if you'd like," the attendant told her, gently poking her with the ticket. "If you leave your bag with me I'll stow it below."

"Oh, yes, thank you," Katya replied, handing over her luggage and continuing down the aisle. She spotted the correct row quickly- they were labelled above. After stuffing her carry-on in the overhead bin, she shimmied down the row to the window seat and strapped in.

A few flyers, including the all-important safety pamphlet, were stuffed into a pocket to her left, with a cupholder and entertainment controls in the armrest. The tray table folded out from one side. She flicked through the safety pamphlet and "Welcome to Atlas" brochure, which seems to be standard fare, before trying the entertainment system. A holographic screen popped up in front of her, showing the current time, time of departure, and their location on Remnant.

"Neat."

Katya had a few minutes to relax before the attendant came on speaker, explaining briefly the safety procedures. It was fairly informal, which surprised her given what she'd heard about Atlas. Almost immediately after, the pilot began starting engines, one at a time. A quiet whine grew into a loud roar as the eight engined aircraft came to life. There was a clunk, the engines revved up, and then they were moving backward toward the runway. She glanced back and saw large dish shaped objects had appeared behind the wings- reversers, she supposed.

The pilot expertly backed the plane onto the runway and turned it around for takeoff. After a minute of waiting, he slammed the throttles forward and released the brakes. The acceleration threw her back into her seat, and the noise was deafening. It was worse even than the old Antonov that had taken her to Mistral, and a far cry from the little Boeing that LOT flew. They hurtled down the runway at breakneck speed before rising into the air, a bump signalling that they had left the ground. Despite that, the loud engines continued to scream at max power.

"Good morning everyone, this is your captain speaking. We're now climbing away from Mistral on our way to thirty thousand feet, making about five hundred miles an hour," another voice told them. "If this is your first time on an airplane, well, they go fast, and they go high. You'll be seeing clouds below you and we'll be landing in Vale within the next ten hours. I hope you enjoy your flight as much as we do. Thank you."

* * *

Headmaster Ozpin watched from the the balcony of his office as the airships began to arrive. Well, mostly airships. Mixed in among the usual K-class airships and Bullhead tiltjets were a smattering of Terran helicopters and a lone tiltrotor- an Osprey, he recalled.

None of them were his students- they were already on campus. These were the guests arriving to watch them graduate. Of course, they had the usual friends and family, but for the first time a few of those came from another world. There were professionals from the hunting community coming to observe. Representatives of government and corporate interests looking for new talent. Dignitaries from around the world- and the other world- more concerned with appearing than accomplishing anything.

"Penny for your thoughts?" a gruff voice interrupted.

"I'm sorry?" the Headmaster asked, glancing back at Qrow Branwen as he approached.

"Something the Earthers say- nevermind," the grizzled huntsman answered. He took a quick swig from his everpresent flask. "Got to hand it to you, it's a good show. Think it'll do them any good?"

He refused to answer, instead remarking, "I find your cynicism odd considering that you teach at Signal. If you believed what we do was worthless, why waste your time?"

"Well, you've got me there, Oz," he replied, chuckling mirthlessly. "But I'm calling your bullshit, too. If you really believed in what we do, you wouldn't be walking away."

"The world has changed, and it is time for new protectors," the Headmaster explained calmly. "I have been pondering this for years, Qrow."

"The heat's on, so you're running?" Qrow spat. "What we do- what you do- nothing can replace that. And I can't believe for a second that you of all people would be convinced otherwise."

The Headmaster did not answer, instead turning to watch the procession below.

"She's coming, you know," Qrow interrupted softly.

"And I'm sure the new highest echelons know that," Ozpin assured. He turned back to the crowds below. They were beginning to thin out as the graduating students and supervising staff led them inside to continue whatever conversations they might be having. Beacon was an impressive place, after all, and many were eager to show that. "These people are the future, Qrow. Not us. They will be the next line of defence, and they will be the ones to protect our world. Not us. Don't you understand, Qrow?"

"You're wrong, old man," Qrow growled, openly disagreeing with the Headmaster for the first time.

He took it in stride, nodding slowly. "History will be the judge of that."

* * *

On the ground, eager students stood waiting for their friends and family totally oblivious to the cynical conversation above. As the airships arrived and their passengers disembarked, students rushed forward to embrace them and they dispersed to other parts of the campus.

Ruby enthusiastically held up a sign labelled _Connor_. Beside her, Yang reluctantly held up one that had said _Rose and Taiyang_ before being crossed out and changed to _you know who you're looking for_. Neither Blake nor Weiss carried a sign, and both silently scanned the incoming crowds.

"Where are they..." the energetic crimsonette whined. She'd grown considerably in the past four years, and now stood above all her teammates except for her sister. Like most of the students, she was dressed in her Beacon uniform, still with the addition of her red cloak.

Weiss quickly checked her scroll. Even in heels, she was easily the shortest of the four. "The shuttle from Vale got delayed. It should be here soon."

"So, are you two going to get married?" Yang asked. As usual, her long hair fell freely below her broad shoulders.

"Um..." Blake half-answered, ears twitching. "What?"

"Not you," she dismissed. "Ruby and her boy-toy from Earth. I mean, it could happen. Did you see that Marine who married a huntress?"

"Yaaaang," Ruby whined. "We're just friends now. I thought Connor would want to see this, that's all."

She rolled her eyes. "Says the girl who's never had a relationship since. Honestly, Ruby, if you want it, just hit it. But not too hard. You'll break it."

Weiss coughed loudly, pointing at the airship docks. "I think they're here."

"Finally!" Ruby exclaimed excitedly, the sign vibrating in her hands.

The shuttle from Vale was a large airship similar to the ones that had brought them to Beacon for the first time many years ago. It landed slowly, wings flapping gently in the air before being retracted and locked in the landing position. A ramp extended from its side and passengers began to disembark.

Among the first off was a woman with short red hair, wearing jeans and a black leather jacket. She spotted her daughters instantly and headed toward them.

"Mom!" Ruby shouted, loud enough for half the docks to hear. With the sign still in hand, she dashed forward and slid into an awkward half-hug.

"You showed up!" Yang exclaimed with both excitement and sarcasm.

"Yang, don't make it weird!" Ruby complained, slapping her sister lightly in the back of the head.

"Look, I know I've been shitty, okay," Rose said frankly. "But I wouldn't miss this for the world. Call it an apology if you have to. You know better than anyone to let the past stay in the past."

"Yeah," she replied quietly before changing the subject. "Where's dad?"

"You tell me," Rose replied with a shrug. "He left this morning with Qrow; I assume he'd arrive early. Probably meeting with Ozpin or something."

"Um, sorry, hi," an awkward voice interrupted. They turned, noticing a young man with brown hair and thin glasses waving awkwardly at them. "Did I interrupt something."

"Hiiiii!" Ruby greeted loudly. She gave him a hug, too, though despite the swiftness of her movements was careful to keep it gentle. "You made it too."

"You must be Connor," Rose said, eyes flicking over the boy. "I'm Rose, Ruby's mom- you already know that. Okay, kid, if you want to date my daughter, there's something real serious you need to keep in mind."

He gulped.

"Mom, don't scare him!"

Ignoring her daughter's protest, Rose explained darkly, "You will be labelled as a person of interest by every intelligence and law enforcement agency in the world. Your movements will be tracked, your communications will be monitored. You may never know it, but everyone will have a dossier on you. That is what you are getting into if you date my daughter."

"Uh..."

Rose broke out laughing. "Who am I kidding, they're watching you already. Alright, kids, let's go see Beacon up close."

* * *

Halfway through the conversation, Weiss and Blake had detached from the group and camped out closer to the landing pads. To be more accurate, Weiss had grabbed Blake by the arm and practically dragged her away, muttering something about letting their moment be their moment.

"You think she made it?" Blake asked quietly, observing the last few passengers step off the airship.

"I don't know," she admitted. "She's flying from West Ukraine, through Poland and Russia and Mistral. They could have detained her, or maybe a flight got delayed..."

By now, the crowds were beginning to thin out. A lone straggler stumbled her way down the ramp, blinking hard against the sun with a sheepish look on her face.

"Guess she made it."

"Katya!" Weiss called, waving. "Over here!"

"Weiss Schnee," the young woman replied, her accent heavy and her voice tired. "I sleep on the airplane but I make it okay. How are you doing? It has been long time."

"Things have been... interesting, but I'm doing pretty well. Sorry about the flights, that's the best I could do." She motioned to the dark-haired faunus standing beside her. "This is Blake Belladonna- you know her. She's my... fiancee."

"It's kind of a legal thing, we're still not sure if we're going to go through with it or not," Blake explained quickly, blushing slightly.

"You are..." the young woman asked, pointing between the two.

"Yes."

"Congratulations!" Katya exclaimed, beaming. "I will be here for the wedding, yes?"

"It's really just a legal thing," Blake muttered.

A devilish grin crossed Weiss's face. "That's not what you said last-"

"Weiss!" their team leader called from behind them. "Are you coming?"

"I'll catch up, I'm waiting for someone," Weiss shouted.

"Who are you waiting for, Weiss?" Ruby shouted back.

"Winter!" she yelled in reply. "She said she'd try to make it."

"Your sister?" Katya asked. She received a nod in reply. "Is younger or older? I am always confused. But she inherited the company, yes?"

"Younger. And inherited is a nice way of putting it. It hasn't been easy on any of us," Weiss admitted. "She'll be on a company transport if she shows."

The Ukrainian woman pointed to a shape descending from the sky. "Like that one?"

Nodding, she replied, "Yeah, like that one."

The sleek SDC craft, a silvery airship with two slender podded engines, circled once before landing. The crew wasted no time, extending the rear ramp with the engines still running. Four figures strode purposely down the ramp. Two looked like Atlesian soldiers, but bore the insignia of the Schnee Dust Company. One was a tall blanchette wearing a cut-down version of the same uniform, who walked behind a short woman in a sharp white suit.

"Which one is Winter?" Katya whispered to Blake.

"This might confuse you, but Winter is actually the shorter one in the front," Blake whispered back.

"I'm not deaf, you know," Weiss snapped before turning and waving at her sister. "But yes, that is Winter. It's amazing how some people are still thrown by that one goddamn picture."

Despite her younger age, Winter was almost as tall as her sister, and it didn't the entourage long to reach the trio gathered by the pad. Winter's eyes darted back and forth, examining her surroundings, before she bit her lip then relaxed, jumping forward and wrapping her sister in a delicate hug.

"Winter!" Weiss greeted warmly. "How are things back in Atlas?"

"Honestly?" Winter answered, letting go, "Terrible. Really terrible. The Chancellor is pushing one way, Ironwood another, Rex one way, James another. But, we manage."

"That's good," Weiss replied. "You know, I'm always a call away if you need me."

She nodded. "I know."

"Really."

"I know."

"Katya, this is my sister, Winter," Weiss introduced, stepping back. "Winter, this is Katya, from Donetsk."

Winter turned to the young woman and offered her white-gloved hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I understand my sister owes, and I suppose I do as well."

"It was nothing," Katya replied, taking it.

"Believe me, it is something, and if you ever need anything, just call the Company and ask for me by name," Winter pushed back. She turned to her sister. "We should probably catch up to the rest of your team."

"Oh, there's no catching up to Ruby," she replied lightly, nevertheless beginning to walk toward the campus proper. "But I suppose there's no harm in trying."

* * *

Shortly after Weiss left with her new companions, a chartered Sikorsky S-92 came in to land. It was one of the last arrivals from the day, carrying a few final guests directly from YVR. The pilot touched down gently before shutting down the engines and opening the rear ramp. A group of official passengers disembarked first, followed by a few well-dressed businesspersons, a pair of journalists, and a motley group of young adults.

"You know, I'm really glad I didn't become a helicopter pilot," Sam remarked casually as he stepped down the ramp. "The dude in the turban was cool, though. Do you know who that was?"

"That man was our Minister of Defence for three years," Cliff informed him, following behind. "Do you not watch the news ever?"

"I try to avoid it," he admitted. He whistled, taking in the sights. "Damn, this place is impressive in real life. Pictures just don't do it justice."

Jen nodded. "No kidding."

"But seriously, where the fuck is everyone?" Sam asked nobody in particular.

"We're late," Ben said bluntly.

"We're not late, exactly, but most of the guests are already here," Isaac corrected.

Sam motioned toward the central tower. "Let's go meet and greet, then."

* * *

Sam admitted to himself that Beacon's main hall wasn't the biggest venue he'd been to, but it was impressively dressed up. Colourful bunting streamed from the tall ceiling, illuminated by large crystal chandeliers. A broad banner stretched across the far wall proclaimed Tasteful statues and display cases complimented the stately walls. Tables of food and entertainment were set up around the perimeter, with a dance floor visible from the entrance. The occupants themselves added to the impression, forming a colourful mass that flowed through the room. Their conversations mixed into a din that echoed slightly through the room.

"Well, I'll give them that, they put on a hell of a party," Sam remarked to his group. "I fucking love this planet."

"It's certainly impressive," Isaac agreed.

Spotting a waitress carrying a full tray of drinks, Sam shouted, "Yo, over here."

The waitress altered her course slightly to pass by. She tilted her tray slightly and offered, "Would you like one, sir?"

"How much fucking alcohol is in that?" Sam asked, pointing to the fluted glasses of swirling orange liquid.

Without missing a beat, she answered, "It's non-alcoholic."

Sam sighed, taking a glass anyway. "I fucking hate this planet."

"I'm surprised they're having the reception before the ceremony," Cliff noted from beside him. He had also taken a glass, sipping from it briefly before cringing and dropping it into a nearby garbage can. "Must be a cultural difference."

"Life is uncertain, eat dessert first?" Isaac suggested.

He nodded. "Something like that."

"We should probably"

Sam stood on his tiptoes and glanced around the room. It was packed with over a thousand people and he couldn't make out a single familiar face. "Yeah..."

"Hey, is that karaoke?" Ben asked, pointing at what looked like song lyrics projected against one wall. Before anyone could response, he started to head toward it.

"I'm going there too," Cliff agreed, running to catch up.

Jen shrugged and followed them.

"Hey, looks like it's just you and me," Sam said to Isaac. He glanced over, only to find that his friend had disappeared. "Isaac, you buddy fucker!"

* * *

Connor and Ruby stood nervously before a small crowd, a screen in front of them showing a frozen set of lyrics. Connor ran down to check the equipment- or rather the song selected on it- and then hopped back on the stage.

"What song did you pick?" Ruby asked, hopping from side to side with excitement.

"I don't know if you've heard this song before," Connor told her. He was more nervous than excited. "It's a few years old now, but it's one of my favourites."

"Sounds good to me."

The music started, and he hummed along for a moment before starting,

" _I've been reading books of old  
The legends and the myths  
Achilles and his gold  
Hercules and his gifts  
Spiderman's control  
And Batman with his fists  
And clearly I don't see myself upon that list_"

He handed the microphone to Ruby, who quickly continued,

" _Where'd you wanna go?  
How much you wanna risk?  
I'm not looking for somebody  
With some superhuman gifts  
Some superhero  
Some fairytale bliss  
Just something I can turn to  
Somebody I can kiss_"

She whirled around once before pushing the microphone between them. Connor missed a few bars before they sang in unison,

" _I want something just like this  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo  
Oh, I want something just like_-"

Suddenly, the music cut out, the lyrics fading from the screen in front of them. Nora Valkyrie poked her head above the equipment rack, a mischievous grin on her face.

"Nora! We were having a moment!" Ruby shouted.

"Oops," she excused with obvious culpability. She grabbed Ren by the hand and dragged him onto the stage, literally pushing the stunned duo off, "Come on, Ren-Ren, our turn."

"Well, it was fun while it lasted," Connor said with a shrug. He stumbled over to an unoccupied table and sat down, still in shock.

"Don't be sad that it's over, be happy that it happened," Ruby recited cheerfully. "I can't believe it's already been four years."

"Neither can I," he concurred. "I mean, pretty soon I'll be a professional videographer. I feel like... I mean, wow. And you're like, supergirl now. Not that you weren't before. Um-"

"Connor," she interrupted, learning in for a kiss. "Something just like this."

Ten metres away, Ben raised his DSLT camera to his eye and held down the shutter, capturing twelve frames of kissing. He smirked as he reviewed the photos. "I'm going to get a lot of Reddit karma for this."

"Did you just-" Cliff stammered. "You're a fucking asshole, Ben."

"Hey," a female voice said. Ben felt a light tapping and turned around, coming face-to-face with a red-haired woman about the same height as him. She looked more Terran than Remnan, but no less dangerous at that moment.

"Uh..."

"Were you taking pictures of my daughter?" the woman asked, rage etched on her face.

"Uh... no?" It came out more as a question than an answer.

"I want copies," the woman said with a smirk before adding, "Oh, and posting photos without the consent of the subjects is a felony. Just so you know."

"Excuse me, are you Summer Rose?" Jen asked curiously, drawing the connection. "You're a huntress, right?"

"Just Rose these days," she answered, already walking away and disappearing into the crowd. "And, no. FBI."

Cliff had few words. "What the fuck."

Ben had already recovered. He shrugged. "I dunno. I'm getting food."

* * *

Behind them, quietly watching the chaos, Weiss and Blake sat together at a small round table. Two half-finished plates of appetizers and two mostly empty-glasses sat on the glass surface. Katya had left to "see every sight", a sentiment neither of them could fault her for, leaving them alone.

"You know, we really should redact that whole engagement thing," Weiss broached suddenly.

"You mean we're _not_ getting married?" Blake half-joked. Her amber eyes flitted back and forth. "Wait, you're not breaking up with me, are you?"

Weiss laughed. "Believe me, Blake, if I was breaking up with you, you'd know it."

"That's true," Blake agreed. "For someone supposedly so refined, you can be really... loud sometimes."

"It's a Schnee thing," she deadpanned. "A veil of civility over a cutthorat fist of iron in a velvet glove, ready to rain down fire on its enemies like the wrath of god."

"That analogy went bad somewhere," her girlfriend commented, unable to figure out exactly where.

"But you do have me thinking. We've been together for, what, four years now?"

"Three and a half," Blake confirmed. "I know we've been quiet about it, for good reasons. Do you think it's time to step it up?"

She nodded. "Maybe. You never really told me where you wanted to go after Beacon."

"I figured I could become a huntress, and making the world a better place would just go from there," the faunus girl answered. "But I don't know anymore. Our world isn't defined the way it used to be. Everything's changing so fast."

"Our entire way of life is changing," Weiss pointed out. "It's a historical inevitability. We're smack dab in the middle of a mid-generation paradigm shift. Five lien Headmaster Ozpin will comment on it."

Blake nodded, deep in thought. "Believe me, Weiss, I'm well aware. Didn't we just flip the biggest company on Remnant on its head half a year ago?"

"Yup."

"How's Winter?" Blake asked. "Like, really. I know we saw her, but I can't help but feel she was giving us the nice answer."

Weiss sighed. "She's hanging in there, but I can tell it's hard on her. I should really go back and help out after this."

"I see," Blake replied, slightly disappointed.

"Hey," Weiss said, leaning forward and taking Blake's hand in her own. "I do want to go back to Atlas and check up on things, but it doesn't have to be right away. We can take the long way there, tour the Kingdoms. Just you and me."

She smiled. "I'd like that."

"You should visit Ukraine," Katya suggested, startling them. "It is close to Mistral, though the flight is a bit difficult."

"How did you sneak up behind us?" Weiss snapped, still surprised.

"You are drunk," Katya stated simply.

She huffed, "I am not-"

"I saw you with the flask, Weiss, you're drunk," Blake interrupted.

The blanchette shrugged. "It's just a little bit of Everclear, it's not even strong."

"Everclear is almost straight ethanol, Weiss," she pointed out in response.

"What?" Weiss asked, confused. "I thought it was just crappy, expensive vodka. It's not?"

"No."

"Nyet."

"Great."

"You know, maybe you should not visit Ukraine," Katya added after a moment. "They will not like your people here. I like you people, but many do not."

"You mean faunus or lesbians?" Blake asked, slightly irritated.

She counted off on her fingers. "Faunus. Lesbian. Remnan. I think they will not like you very much, actually. It is very unfortunate."

"Do they like _you_ here?" Weiss asked, steering the conversation away from the awkward topic.

"They think I am from Vacuo or something," Katya said. "I explain, they don't understand. But very fun people and very bright colours. Maybe I come to this world someday, even."

"What are you doing these days, anyway?"

"I am studying economic science," she answered. "It is very fascinating. I am hope to get scholarship to study in perhaps-"

"Hey, guys, I'm pregnant!" an excited voice suddenly interrupted. Nora leaped over the table and sat on her hammer, broad smile on her face. Ren slowly followed, usual exasperated look on his face.

"Really?" Blake asked skeptically.

Ren nodded, trying to gently prod Nora to get off the hammer.

"Congratulations, Nora," Weiss said to her friend before leaning over and whispering to Blake, "Just when I thought Nora couldn't shock me anymore."

"Why she cannot shock you anymore?" Katya asked. She didn't have to wait for Nora to leave- before she had even fully processed the energetic young woman's statements, she had taken off to tell someone else.

"Blake, send her those pictures we took after she came back from that movie," Weiss suggested.

Blake's eyes widened. "You're not talking about the Thor pictures, are you?"

"Just send them."

Reluctantly, Blake complied.

"Fuck your mother," Katya muttered quietly after checking her phone.

"Yep, pretty much," Weiss commented.

Blake shrugged. "It's Nora."

* * *

Yang Xiao Long sighed, idly twirling the glass of punch in her hand as she wandered through the bustling crowds. She was bored and alone, an usual upset for the highly socially active blonde. Ruby was with Connor, Weiss and Blake were chatting up that girl from Earth, Nora and Ren were doing _something_ , and the last she'd seen Jaune and Pyrrha they were sneaking into a bathroom.

"Hey," a young man with orange-brown hair greeted. His armour clanked lightly as he leaned away from the wall.

"What the hell do you want, Cardin?" she snapped, glaring at him with red beginning to tinge her eyes.

"Why the hostility?" he asked, stepping back and raising his arms in surrender. "Look, I was a dick, okay? I am not proud of some of the shit I did. But that was years ago, Yang."

"Unless you're going to apologize, shut the hell up and leave me alone."

"As a matter of fact, I am willing to apologize," Cardin said, to her surprise. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have blackmailed Jaune Arc, I shouldn't have physically abused Velvet Scarlatina- that kinda came back to bite me, by the way- and I shouldn't have said what I did to Blake. It was really juvenile of me and I'm sorry."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not buying it. People don't just change overnight."

"I was a bully and an idiot," he repeated, raising his hands again. "I was just lashing out at things I didn't like and couldn't understand. But I've been thinking about it, and what I did wasn't right. The faunus and us can't live together- they're different from you and me- but just picking on them isn't going to fix anything."

"What the fuck are you getting at?" Yang asked, confused.

"I know now is not the time to be talking politics, but I've had a few, so bear with me," Cardin answered amicably. He motioned with one hand. "The problem is that we've been trying to make a peace that we just can't make. The fact is, the Kingdoms are human kingdoms and that's who they need to be for. Just like how Remnant is for Remnans."

"Kingdoms are for... Remnant is for Remnans?" she spat. "What... just, what?"

"Look, Remnant is for Remnans, that's an undeniable fact. Earthers literally can't live here without our walls protecting them, or they die," he ranted. "I don't believe they should all die, not anymore. But it's better for everyone if they stay on their site of the portal. It's the same for us and the faunus. We were never meant to be together, and it's just better for everyone-"

Yang was very, very tempted to just punch him in the face at that moment. It would have been oh so satisfying, and in her mind the fucker deserved it. Instead, she tossed her drink in his face, pirouetted on one heel and stomped away. She held her head high, not looking where she was going, and made it a dozen paces before stumbling over someone and crashing to the floor.

"Salutations!" a cheerful orange-haired girl greeted from beneath her. "I would appreciate it if you would get off me."

"Geez, no need to be rude about it," Yang grumbled, standing up and dusting herself off.

Penny Polendina leaped to her feet with an elegant half-flip. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to come across as rude. I still don't get out much."

"Yeah, I can tell," Yang replied lightly. "I mean, I haven't seen you in forever. What have you been up to?"

"I remained in Atlas under the care of General Ironwood after the death of my father," she answered. Though her voice was more varied than Yang remembered, the synthetic girl still had stiff, awkward body language. "Actually, I've mostly been in Atlas, working on some of my father's old projects."

"I guess that's-"

"Oh!" Penny interrupted, raising a finger. "I got to play a game called Starcraft against an artificial intelligence from Earth. I lost the first match, but won the second one. He wasn't very talkative."

"I guess that's cool," Yang commented. "I figured you'd be at the Vytal Festival. I mean, you're combat-ready, right? Did you get to do any of that?"

"I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you," Penny joked.

At least, Yang thought it was a joke. She laughed awkwardly.

"Well, I should find Friend-Ruby before the ceremony starts," Penny excused, turning to leave. "It starts in four point three nine minutes. Have a good day, Yang Xiao Long."

"Yeah, you too," she said with a wave, checking the time on her own scroll. Damn, was it already that time? She started heading for the auditorium. She wasn't big on ceremonies, but sure didn't want to miss this one.

* * *

Taiyang Xiao Long stared at the punch bowl, holding an empty glass in one hand and trying to decide whether to fill it or not.

Both of his daughters were here, graduating at the same time, even. That was a tremendous milestone for anyone to be proud of, one that reminded him of better days when he'd been in the same position. He'd run into Rose, and Glynda, and a few other old friends that he didn't get to see much anymore. It should have been a joyous night, but he was... confused. Yes, that was the best word for it.

"It's not the good stuff, don't bother," a gruff voice interrupted.

"Qrow," Taiyang greeted, motioning with his empty glass.

"Did you talk to Rose?" Qrow asked, flask in hand.

Taiyang nodded. "Yeah, I did."

"How was it?"

He sighed. "Awkward, of course. It's getting better. I have to keep reminding myself that the past is the past, good or bad. We can't go back to what we had, with everything that's changed."

The gruff huntsman took a swig from his flask. "It's pretty messed up, isn't it?"

The blond sighed again. "Yeah. But at least we're talking, right?"

"It's better than a kick in the head," Qrow said before smirking. "Met anyone else yet? You could make it three for three, you know."

"Fuck you, Qrow!" Tai snapped on reflex. He recovered slightly adding meekly, "That's not funny."

"I'm serious, you know. If you can be friends, that's great, but you and her are done and you should..." He trailed off after spotting an impossibly familiar shape in the corner of his eye. "The hell?"

"What is it?" Tai asked, beginning to look in the same direction.

Qrow snapped his eyes back and shook his head. "Probably nothing. Go tell Ruby I said hi, will ya."

Tai almost objected, but decided against it. Instead, he clapped his old teammate on the shoulder. "Alright, I'll do that. Don't miss the ceremony."

After waiting a moment, Qrow stowed his flask and meandered his way over to the mysterious figure. She- definitely a she- was sitting at a small, dimly lit table in the corner, a glass of punch in her gloved hand.

He recognized her instantly. "What the hell are you doing here, Raven?"

"I wanted to see my daughter graduate," she replied simply, looking up. "Need I offer any other explanation?"

"Considering I haven't seen you in three years, it would be nice," he answered before sitting down across from her.

"I've been busy," the woman stated seriously. "The past few years have been really tough on the tribe. If you'd stuck around, it wouldn't have gotten as bad as it did."

"I left for good reasons," Qrow growled. "I'm not going back to the tribe, and nothing's going to change that."

"I know," Raven acknowledged with a nod. She took a sip from her glass.

After a pause, he asked reluctantly, "How bad?"

"We made the mistake of raiding the wrong settlement. We figured it wasn't well defended, stupid Earthers don't know what they're doing, they're a weak easy target," she explained, voice barely controlled. "And we were right. It was an easy fight, and the spoils were great. But then they started hunting us from the sky. Fighters, civilians, elderly, children, it didn't matter. You'd just be sitting there, and then, boom, the tent beside you is blasted into pieces. Pathetic, disgusting, brutal... but we were on the end of it."

"God damn," he breathed.

"We eventually reached an understanding." She rolled her sleeve up, revealing a set of small round scars, then rolled it back down. "The Earthers are nothing if not curious. But it's a small price to pay for the safety of my people."

"I'm not coming back," Qrow repeated.

"I'm not asking you to," Raven said, leaning back in her chair. "Like I said, I'm here to see my daughter graduate. I haven't been here in ages, and it's a nice chance to get away and relax a little bit. That's a luxury I don't get very often."

"You know Rose is here, too," Qrow warned. "I don't think she'll be too happy to see you around. Come to think of it, Tai won't either."

"They won't see me," Raven assured, standing to leave. "Have a good one, Qrow. I'll be around."

Qrow shook his head, withdrew his flask, and tipped the last few sips into his mouth.

* * *

Headmaster Ozpin checked his watch impatiently, glancing out onto the stage. His students and their guests filed out into the auditorium, brightly dressed and smiling broadly for their last day at Beacon. As usual, he was proud of the fine young warriors honed at the school, and as usual, he was somber knowing that half of them would never see their thirtieth birthday.

"Almost time," Glynda Goodwitch told him, breaking him from his trance.

He nodded. "I know."

"You're really going to do it," she remarked idly, though with gravity in her voice. "This will be your last speech."

"Yes," the Headmaster answered without hesitation. "The world has changed, Glynda, and it believes that there is no longer a place for my ilk. It's only fair that I respect that collective decision."

"Surely you haven't-"

"No."

"But what if-"

"My decision is final," Ozpin said firmly before smiling. "But tonight is a night to celebrate, Glynda, not to argue. If the future is dark, we can at least enjoy the light of the present."

She sighed and bit her lip. "I understand."

"Very good," the Headmaster told her before stepping out onto the stage.

* * *

Beacon's auditorium was by now highly familiar to the graduating students. It had one of the first places they'd visited on the campus, where the Headmaster had delivered a perplexing opening speech. Now, they were returning for what would for many be their last time there.

Like the rest of Beacon, the auditorium was ornate and impressive. Arched ceilings met with stately columns, curving into walls punctuated by large windows that let in the evening's fading light. However, it was a structure that appeared larger on the outside than the inside, and there were a few quiet comments on its size among the louder ones on its allure.

As the elegant headmaster stepped onto the stage, the chatter quickly fell silent. By the time he reached the lectern, the room was quiet, waiting for him to begin.

"Good evening," Ozpin greeted. "Students of Beacon- soon to be Huntsmen and Huntresses themselves. Friends, family, huntsmen and huntresses, officials and other esteemed guests. Welcome. I hope you have enjoyed your time here as much as I have enjoyed my time with you."

He paused, glancing down at the lectern before continuing. "It has been an incredible four years, within these walls and without. Withing these walls, I have seen you grow from a childlike youth, unsure of your place, your direction, or yourselves, into fully capable and confident huntsmen and huntresses. Let me assure you that is no small feat. Outside of them, I have watched the world change, from a tumultuous world on the brink of chaos to a new one that may appear idyllic, yet holds new challenges unlike those ever seen before."

Quiet murmurs spread throughout the crowd. Ozpin cut them off, changing topics. "It takes a special kind of person to be a hunter. Talent and knowledge only goes so far. It takes a drive to succeed against all adversity, and a willingness to sacrifice all that must be sacrificed that is necessary. Huntsmen and huntresses occupy an honoured position in our society for good reason. It is the most dangerous job on two worlds, and perhaps the most important. We protect those who cannot protect themselves, no matter the cost."

"No doubt some of you will accuse me of simply repeating my speech from the previous year," the Headmaster joked with a thin smile. "Normally, I would call that a fair accusation. However, you- that is, you who are graduating today- are different. The fact is that you are unique. You are different from those who came through this school before you and you are different from those who will follow."

"You are our vanguard," he elaborated. "Before you came those such as your parents and your professors who were shaped by the old world and forced to adapt to the new one. After you will come those who never knew the old world at all. Born into the old world and growing up into the new world, you will be the ones who shape our future."

He smiled thinly again. "I believe it was your year to whom I bluntly stated was lacking in purpose and direction. When you first arrived, I cautioned all of you that knowledge would only take you so far, and that it was up to you to take the first step. Well, you have taken that first step. And as you have no doubt found out already, often it is the first step that is the most difficult."

"It will be difficult for many of you to leave tonight. We have spent four years together, through triumph and disappointment. Let me assure that that your journey has only begun. It will be a dangerous one, an unpredictable one, an incredible one and a strange one. Most importantly, it will be your own." He emphasized the last words.

"Take every opportunity, so long as it is worth taking," Ozpin urged. "Rise to every challenge, but pick your fights wisely. To succeed requires both courage and prudence. I believe that each any every one of you possesses both of those qualities. You have run the gauntlet that is Beacon, and you will make your way in the world, whatever that way may be. Of that I am sure."

He paused, taking a moment to look over his students one last time.

"Thank you. I wish you all the very best."

* * *

I hope that was a suitable ending, because I'm about to drop a big bombshell.

 **The End**

This is not only the end of The Remnan Exchange but also the end of Emergence.

To clarify, that doesn't mean there will never be anything more set in the Emergence-verse. It does mean, however, that this is officially the end of the story that started with Emergence. I had a sequel envisioned- Emergence Next- but that's not on the roadmap at this point.

First off, I'd like to thank everyone who read the series. I'd like to thank especially those who contributed to it, via reviewing, spreading the word, contributing Asides, making the TVtropes page and everything else. Yes, that includes you who hated it and you who gave up halfway through. It includes you who were here from the beginning and you who discovered it many years later. You all made- and, perhaps, are making- Emergence what it was.

It's been one hell of a journey, but it's also been one hell of a rollercoaster. I never expected Emergence to get as popular as it did, nor did I expect it to be as divisive as it ended up being. I'm really happy with how some things turned out, and really not happy with others. There are many reasons for it, but I think it's time to call it quits for now.

In many ways, The Remnan Exchange was Aliens Among Us all over again. I vastly underestimated the complexity of the project and overestimated the amount of time I had to work on it. Because of that, several arcs I feel I didn't do justice to, though I think the crucial beginning turned out okay. It didn't help that halfway through, I made the decision to devote less time to fanfiction writing for real life reasons, which resulted in a series of dramatic rescopes and cutdowns.

In other words, I'm not happy with how The Remnan Exchange turned out, but to do it right, as planned, would have taken more time and more effort than I was willing to put in.

I'm also not happy with how Emergence as a whole was turning out. Canon was moving in a far different direction than what I had planned, and a lot of poor or uninformed early decisions were starting to stack up. By the time The Remnan Exchange rolled around, the verse had accumulated a lot of baggage that I had to write around. Convergence was also a very divisive fic that split the readerbase and understandably so for the same reasons.

So, less satisfaction with Emergence as an author and less time for fanfiction in general equals not a lot of motivation to continue it.

I've also been shifting away from RWBY in general. Volume 4 was a huge disappointment for me. It failed to address the flaws of previous volumes, often felt tropey and generic, and lacked a truly climactic ending. I've been looking back at some of the fandoms I used to frequent and exploring some new ones. Less interest in RWBY means less interest in Emergence, and more interest elsewhere means more interest in doing something different.

 **That's my reasoning. So what happens next?**

There may be an Emergence Next, someday, in some form. I released a "game" on April Fools' as a joke, but I'm considering actually making a real one in the future. However, I doubt I'll ever have the time to do it.

I do have a few other fanfics in the works, though none are RWBY ones. The first is Extinction, a Stargate/Mass Effect crossover. It's proven very popular on Spacebattles but I took a break from it to finish this. The other is Fight For Freedom Anniversary Edition, a from-scratch rewrite of the first fanfic I ever published to this site.

But, like I've said, I'm kind of pulling back from fanfiction. The sad truth is that though it's not a fruitless endeavour, writing fanfiction is not going to win friends or pay bills. I've been toying with the idea of writing an original novel, and I have a concept in mind, but there's always the issue of actually finding the time and motivation to write it.

I've made no secret that my passion is games. I've already started spending more effort on building those, and that's where I'm going in the future. I'm still going to be telling stories, and often with the same style and themes, but in a different medium. It probably won't be out until the end of the summer, but look for a VR game about firefighters on Android.

Until next time,

Chris7221/XCVG


	35. Epilogue

Posted here for posterity. I figure this is where people are mostly going to look.

 **Emergence Next: What Could Have Been**

It's a near-certainty now that I'll never get around to writing Emergence Next. There are many, many reasons for this. Perhaps the biggest is that I think in a lot of ways it's over for Emergence. There's so much cruft and baggage from early mistakes to deal with- same reason why I failed to pick up SGD again. I'm really not happy with some of the decisions I've made. Emergence is now a stigmatized name, and I can't blame people for that considering my own thoughts. The second biggest is that I'm simply less interested in RWBY as a series (V5 is out and I haven't even watched the trailer) and fanfiction in general, and I have quite a bit less time to dedicate it to it since I have school and am going full-bore on a VR game of my own design (Firefighter VR, on itch) and yes I'm still trying to write that book (The Fallenstar Prophecy- up on Spacebattles).

Laying out what I had planned for Emergence Next is difficult, because it was constantly in flux and I never really nailed down what was going to be. I have a vague idea of a main plot, a few potential arcs, and a few oddly specific scenes in mind. Planning for what would become Emergence Next started as early as the first month of Emergence, with a lot of it ending up in Convergence and The Remnan Exchange. Things started to clear up around the time I wrote Convergence, but then canon revelations threw things into a loop again. I'll try to make this as coherent as possible, but it may be a hopeless battle.

It was going to be called Resurgence, but someone took that name already. Early on, Emergence was planned as a trilogy: Emergence, Convergence, and Divergence. The first two were written pretty much as planned, the last one abandoned and its elements merged into Convergence, TRX, and Emergence Next. Anyway, Resurgence was a logical name for that pattern, and as you'll see fits the concept fairly well.

Emergence Next, at least early on, would echo RWBY with a new team coming to Beacon to learn to be huntsmen and huntresses. Only, there's literally a portal to Earth in the background, and this team is all half-Terran (most likely a deliberate experiment). That setting would introduce the world and develop the characters a bit before things really start going crazy. This is approximately twenty years after contact, so a lot of things have changed since the end of TRX.

I imagine Emergence Next having a season/episode format, but I don't really want to take on something of that scope again. I toyed seriously with the idea of working it into a game or animated series, but that's just totally unrealistic for someone who isn't a 1337 3D animator.

You've seen some of the "trailers" of Emergence Next. These are more or less the characters planned from the beginning. Alex was the first I figured out, way back when I wrote Tabula Rasa. She was going to be either the daughter of Yang's missing mom or Summer Rose, which was finalized to Summer Rose when Raven was revealed in canon. Maybe a bit too much of a Sue- badass SEAL, silver-eyed huntress, possible Maiden.

Dylan Taylor wasn't named until recently, but was planned in broad strokes from the beginning. A Canadian, he went into engineering and started making six figures in the nascent Dust mining industry. He identifies as Terran and goes to some length to conceal his half-Remnan origin; perhaps over the course of the story he would learn to accept it.

Yolande "Candy" de Rais was born to a family of hunters, but in the United States. She did poorly as a warrior, possibly due to her half-Terran blood, and fled to Earth as a young adult. She tries to appear Terran and often fails, which would be a source of dubious comic relief. Oh, and she might be Jaune's cousin for maximal Japanese storytelling.

The final character I haven't really rounded out- male, British/Vacuan, lived on both Earth and Remnant, struggles with issues of identity, maybe a huge RWBY fan. All three were born after contact and are not Fragments like Alex.

Together they form team… um, I don't actually have a name. But Alex would be the leader, and her no-nonsense military attitude would put her at odds with her much younger and looser teammates. All of them came to Beacon somewhat reluctantly after various turns of events that pushed them from their previous lives, maybe orchestrated and maybe not. Alex would have the ambush in _alex rose_ , Dylan I'm not sure about, Candy gets into a fight in the dorms, and I'm not sure about the last character. They go on wacky and zany adventures and then things start going downhill. The whole issue of ancestry and identity would be a running theme throughout their character arcs.

There was a lot of setup done for this, from the old guy at Beacon in Those You Leave Behind to the entire Summer Rose arc in Convergence. I hope that some of the confusing decisions I made make more sense with Emergence Next in mind. Philosophically, I think it's better to set up things and maybe not use them than to drop things in from out of the blue. Sometimes trying to play the long game can bite you in the ass, though.

Yes, it would have been OC-heavy, and I know that would have been divisive which is one of the reasons I'm reluctant to write it. I still have the ridiculous notion of a fan series in my mind so I've deliberately avoided canon characters in the development of Emergence Next. A fanfic wouldn't really have that restriction, but they would still be mostly supporting villains.

Originally, there were going to be four villains based on the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. I'm not sure if they were ever intended to be actual characters; I was leaning more toward a "force of nature" interpretation of the Grimm rather than the "intelligent bipedal mastermind" version we got.

War is an attempt to ignite conflict. Originally, this would have been a straight-up war between Atlas and the United States, but I later started leaning toward more infighting and tension, with Mantle nationalism, Remnant-for-Remnans terrorism, and Atlas getting the bomb. Famine and Pestilence would be crop failures across Remnant and a new disease ripping through the population– maybe pathogens from Earth for maximum irony. Death would be a horde of Grimm, a solid mass of blackness devouring everything in its wake.

The introduction of Salem and the Maidens in canon resulted in a significant reworking of the plot. I still want to keep the Four Horsemen, but Salem would be the mastermind and they would be phases of her attack rather than actual characters. The Maidens would be the key to defeating her, starting a whole race to destiny against a world falling apart.

I don't recall when I started thinking about prophecy and destiny, but with the rework I had something fairly concrete down. Four powers, sacrifice their greatest guardians, a light as pure as the sun. The Maidens must combine their powers and sacrifice themselves to defeat the evil. But there's another way to interpret that, and I'll get to that near the end.

Resurrecting Ozpin? No idea what to do with that. Ozpin left at the end of TRX and would have returned at some point in Emergence Next, so I can work with that, but I never made specific plans. The Relics? Nothing.

I have the beginning and the ending pretty much locked in, but everything in between is just a pile of disconnected, random ideas. I'll list some of them below.

 _They think there's a traitor or enemy among the team, and all signs gradually point to Alex Rose. The rest of the team trails her one night to a mysterious meeting. Episode break. They confront her and Alex introduces the naval (or intelligence?) attache. It's revealed that she was never actually booted from the Navy but is on a special assignment to get inside the elite community of hunters by becoming one. I'll admit this is all pretty thin._

 _There's a plot to kill the President, who is in Vale to watch the Vytal Festival. Our team is beginning a match, knowing there's a plot and not knowing how when the announcer mentions "rules and guidelines". Alex (or possibly Dylan) realizes that they saw the bad guys (Remnan-first terrorists?) stealing SA-2 Guideline missiles. They somehow leave the match and make it to the President. With their primary extraction probably burned, they commandeer a transport, watch the nominal Marine One get blown up, narrowly avoid missiles with fighter escort, then head for the E-4C waiting at CFB Abbotsford._

 _Alex executes a bad guy and her team flips shit over it._

 _In class, everyone is on their phones._

 _The team is on a Bullhead escaping from something and they can't make it back to civilization. Alex tells them to head for a certain set of mysterious coordinates. They begin to doubt her as fuel runs out but then a sleek grey shape emerges from the clouds- the USS Enterprise ZVN-01._

 _A standoff between the USN aerial fleet and the Atlesian one, with missile slung and airships knocked out of the sky. Possibly how the war starts._

 _A badass scene where the Atlesian fleet saves the USN fleet from an onslaught of Grimm._

 _Tactical nuclear weapons, maybe a drill, maybe not._

 _A rapid-perspective-switching sequence where a hunter team calls in bombardment, it goes through controllers and an Iowa-class battleship obliging with guided shells._

 _Going after the Grimm, "kicking in the door Terran-style" with a fleet including the new Montana-class battleships at their back. This is a little far even for me._

 _The CIA might have been backing Mantle Nationalists, and it will probably backfire horribly._

 _Polendina's secret files were cracked by the NSA using a quantum computer._

 _NSA Battlespire: Intercepting CCT transmissions since the 2020s. They might later use the system to replace a CCT tower after it's destroyed in a cool tech sequence with plenty of author appeal but boring as shit to anyone else._

 _On Earth, the team is chased by some bad guys of some description. Alex "borrows" her stepsister's Camaro (which is also self-driving and plug-in hybrid because it's 2035) and absolutely trashes it in an Oscar-worthy gunfight-filled car chase sequence that kind of but doesn't really echo the one from Volume 2._

 _The team has to get from one Kingdom to another, fast. They break into a museum and steal the prototype Atlesian Condor, an attempt to build a supersonic airliner that was later completed in a different form with help from Earth. They struggle to figure out how to get it running, then take off with very angry museum staff chasing them._

I mentioned that I have the ending locked in, and that's pretty much true. After a long, dangerous chase with the world falling apart and Salem's hordes closing in on the Kingdoms, our team of heroes has gathered the Maidens and deciphered the prophecy. The plunge into the heart of the storm (likely with assistance from friends they've made) fighting Grimm and maybe coming face-to-face with Salem herself. Perhaps the canon characters have a cameo here. It would be a big, impressive, multi-chapter battle scene in any case.

Most likely, the rest of Alex's team survives this, leaving on a helicopter as Alex holds off the invasion with the Maidens, who pool their power in a ritual that's meant to fulfill the prophecy and destroy the horde. At the same time, a bomber comes screaming in under heavy escort, slinging a thermonuclear weapon into the heart of the horde. When the dust clears, Alex and the Maidens are gone, and so is the horde of Grimm. Across the planet, the creatures of darkness begin to retreat. Everyone celebrates and/or contemplates their losses.

Another random moment: Alex, just before she's vaporized, says that they should name a ship after her, "preferably a carrier, but I'll settle for a destroyer. No fucking amphibs or LCS". Maybe there's a military funeral scene at the end, something about Alex insisting she's Terran first and it's all USN, or she's embraced her dual identity and it's a mixed ceremony. Maybe they reveal the next USN airship and plastered across the hull is _USS Alexandra Crimson Drake_.

You're probably wondering if the nuke killed the horde or if the ritual did. It's deliberately left ambiguous, and the prophecy itself is carefully written so it can be read either way.

Maybe it ends on a sad note, or maybe our heroes ride off into the sunset. I don't know. Maybe I could echo TRX and end it with the remaining team graduating while also mourning the lost. It would have to be a relatively final ending.

There _is_ Emergence After Next, which is a far more vague set of ideas. It would be hard-ish sci-fi, set approximately a century later and primarily revolving around the use of a "slingshot drive" that can be used to traverse interstellar distances by swinging through another universe in a blatant ripoff of Half-Life's Xen teleporter. Robotics, AI, and genetic engineering would also be major plot elements. I have no idea what kind of characters or plot would be here. Honestly, I don't think Emergence After Next would ever get written even if Emergence Next was, because RWBY and hard sci-fi go together like oil and water.

Like I said, none of that is likely to happen now. I feel that it's time to put this out there because of that, giving a sadistically tantalizing glimpse of what could have been. I think there are some good ideas in Emergence Next, but I don't have the time or interest to write it. If anyone wants to pick up the mantle, you're welcome to. As for me, this is it for Emergence.

Probably.


End file.
